As for Barnabas himself, as he leaned there against the stile with
his gaze on the distance, his eyes a-dream, he had clean forgotten
his awkward clothes and blunt-toed boots.
And after all, what can boots or clothes matter to man or woman?
indeed, they sink into insignificance when the face of their wearer
is stamped with the serene yet determined confidence that marked
Barnabas as he spoke.
"Marry--Cleone Meredith?" said the Viscount at last.
"Marry her--yes," said Barnabas slowly.
"Why then, in the first place let me tell you she's devilish high
and proud."
"'T is so I would have her!" nodded Barnabas.
"And cursedly hard to please."
"So I should judge her," nodded Barnabas.
"And heiress to great wealth."
"No matter for that," said Barnabas.
"And full of whims and fancies."
"And therefore womanly," said Barnabas.
"My dear Beverley," said the Viscount, smiling again, "I tell you
the man who wins Cleone Meredith must be stronger, handsomer, richer,
and more accomplished than any 'Buck,' 'Corinthian,' or 'Macaroni'
of 'em all--"
"Or more determined!" added Barnabas.
"Or more determined, yes," nodded the Viscount.
"Then I shall certainly marry her--some day," said Barnabas.
Again the Viscount eyed Barnabas a while in silence, but this time,
be it noted, he smiled no more.
"Hum!" said he at last, "so it seems in finding a friend I have also
found myself another rival?"
"I greatly fear so," said Barnabas, and they walked on together.
But when they had gone some distance in moody silence, the Viscount
spoke: "Beverley," said he, "forewarned is forearmed!"
"Yes," answered Barnabas, "that is why I told you."
"Then," said the Viscount, "I think we'll--shake hands--after all."
The which they did forthwith.
Now it was at this moment that Milo of Crotona took it upon himself
to become visible.