“Whether I have any chance or not, I mean to ask her,” said Andy steadily. “But I’ll play fair. I’ll wait until you are free!”
“I suppose you think you are mighty magnanimous,” replied Stamford unpleasantly. “Do you propose that we should walk up to the lady arm-in-arm, and say, ‘Which of us will you have?’ ”
That was a difficulty which certainly had not presented itself to Andy, but he grappled with it in a desperate—
“Let’s write then! So that she gets both letters by the same post.”
Stamford kicked the fender-stool in silence for a moment or two, then he said suddenly—
“You’re a good chap, Deane. My father knew what he was doing when he liked the look of you, and asked you to accept Gaythorpe.”
“It was odd I should happen to be preaching that morning,” said Andy dully.
“Preaching! Why, you don’t suppose your sermon had anything to do with it, do you? If it had, you and I would never have hit it off as we have done.”
“Why did he offer me the living, then?” said Andy.
“Oh, he saw you were a decent chap, and young and all that, of course.”