Part 25 (1/2)

[Ill.u.s.tration: ”I GUESS YOU'RE THE MOST UNSELFISH SAINT ON TWO LEGS!”]

CULCH. She is--er--vivacious, certainly. (PODBURY _sighs_.) You seem rather dull to-night, my dear fellow?

PODB. Not dull--a trifle out of sorts, that's all. Fact is, I don't think Venice agrees with me. All this messing about down beastly back-courts and ca.n.a.ls and in stuffy churches--it _can't_ be healthy, you know! And they've _no_ drainage. I only hope I haven't caught something, as it is. I've that kind of sinking feeling, and a general lowness--_She_ says I lunch too heavily--but I swear it's more than that!

CULCH. Nonsense, you're well enough. And why you should feel low, with all your advantages--in Venice as you are, and in constant intercourse with a mind adorned with every feminine gift--!

PODB. Hul-lo! why, I thought you called her a pedantic prig?

CULCH. If I used such a term at all, it was in no disparaging sense.

Every earnest nature presents an--er--priggish side at times. I know that even I myself have occasionally, and by people who didn't _know_ me of course, been charged with priggishness.

PODB. Have you, though? But of course there's nothing of that about _her_. Only--well, it don't signify. [_He sighs._

CULCH. Ah, Podbury, take the good the G.o.ds provide you and be content!

You might be worse off, believe me!

PODB. (_discontentedly_). It's all very well for _you_ to talk--with Miss Trotter all to yourself. I suppose you're regularly engaged by this time, eh?

CULCH. Not quite. There's still a----And your probation, that's practically at an end?

PODB. I don't know. Can't make her out. She wouldn't sit on me the way she does unless she _liked_ me, I suppose. But I say, it must be awf--rather jolly for you with Miss Trotter? She's got so much _go_, eh?

CULCH. You used to say she wasn't what you call cultivated.

PODB. I know I did. That's just what I like about her! At least--well, we _both_ ought to think ourselves uncommonly lucky beggars, I'm sure!

[_He sighs more heavily than ever._

CULCH. You especially, my dear Podbury. In fact, I doubt if you're half grateful enough!

PODB. (_snappishly_). Yes, I am, I tell you. _I_'m not grumbling, am I?

I know as well as you do she's miles too good for me. Haven't I _said_ so? Then what the devil do you keep on nagging at me for, eh?

CULCH. I am glad you see it in that light. Aren't you a little irritable to-night?

PODB. No, I'm not. It's those filthy ca.n.a.ls. And the way you talk--as if a girl like Miss Trotter wasn't----!

CULCH. I really can't allow you to lecture me. I am not insensible to my good-fortune--if others are. Now we'll drop the subject.

PODB. I'm willing enough to drop it. And I shall turn in now--it's late.

You coming?

CULCH. Not yet. Good-night. (_To himself, as_ PODBURY _departs_.) You tasteless _dolt_!

PODB. Good-night! (_To himself, as he swings off._) Confounded patronizing _prig_!

CHAPTER XXIII.