Chapter XIII

"BILL," said BOBO, one winter twilight, by the smoking-room fire, after her fourteenth cigarette, "I want you to run away with me."

"Rot," answered BILL.

"Yes, I do. I've ordered the carriage for half-past ten this evening. We shall catch the mail to Euston."

"You won't catch this male," said BILL. "No, BOBO, you're very good fun--in your own house, but I don't want you in mine. You are distinctly BOBO, but that's all. It isn't enough to live upon. It won't pay rent and taxes."

"You're a cur."

"No, I'm trying to be a gentleman. Besides, what's the matter with COKALEEK? Hasn't he millions, and a charming house in the heart of the collieries?"

"He's all that's delightful, only I happen to hate him. Directly I leave off chaffing him I begin to think of arsenic, and, brilliant as I am, I can't coruscate all day. It's very mean of you not to want to elope."

"I daresay; but I'm the only rational being in the book, and I want to sustain my character."