Ben Blair

Sidwell smiled. "I shall have to confess it," he admitted.

"I thought so," remarked Hough dryly. "Next time you depict a plebeian scene you can remember this and thank me."

This time Sidwell did not smile. "You're hitting me rather hard, old man," he said.

"You deserve it," laconically answered Hough.

"But not from you!"

Hough meditatively watched the beads bursting on the surface of the liquor.

"Admitted," he said; "but the people who ought to touch you up are afraid to do so, and someone ought to." He smiled across the table. "Pardon the brutal frankness, but it's true."

Sidwell returned the glance. "You think it's the duty of some intimate to perform the kindness of this--touching up process occasionally, do you?"

Hough drank deep and sighed with satisfaction. "Jove! that tastes good! I limbered up my joints with a two-mile walk before I went to the club this evening, and I've been as dry as a harvest-hand ever since. All the wine in France or elsewhere won't touch the spot like a little good old brew when a man is really healthy." He recalled himself. "Your pardon, Sidwell. Seriously, I do think it's the duty of our best friends to bring us back to earth now and then when we've strayed too far away. No one who doesn't care for us will take the trouble."

"Our very best friends, I judge," suggested Sidwell.

"Certainly." The big man wondered what was coming next.

"A--wife, for instance."

Hough straightened in his chair. His jolly face grew serious.

"Are you in earnest, Chad," he queried, "or are you just drawing me out?"

"I never was more in earnest in my life."

Hough lost sight of the original question in the revelation it suggested.

"Do you mean you're really going to get married at last?"

Sidwell forced a smile. "If the matter were already settled, it would be too late to consider the advisability of the move, wouldn't it?" he returned. "It would be an established fact, and as such useless to discuss. I haven't asked the lady, if that answers your question."

Hough made a gesture of impatience. "Theoretically, yes, but practically, no. In your individual case, desire and gratification amount to the same. You're mighty fascinating with the ladies, Chad. Few women would refuse you, if you made an effort to have them do the reverse."

"Thank you," said Sidwell, equivocally.

His companion scowled. "Appreciation is unnecessary. I'm not even sure the remark was complimentary."

They sat a moment in silence, while the beer in their glasses grew stale.

"Suppose I were to consider marriage, as you suggest," said Sidwell at last. "What do you think would be the result? Judging from your expression, some opinion thereon is weighing heavily upon your mind."