He reached for another; it also
went out.
"It seems to me," he said mildly, taking his unlighted pipe from his
lips, "that these are the worst matches I ever saw."
Ridout had recovered some of his usual self-assurance. "It seems to
_me_," he declared boldly, "that it's the worst match I ever heard
of."
"Worst or best," said Edward, with dogged resolution, "it will be
necessary for you to speak of it with respect--in my presence."
This seemed to be the end of the matter; but Boulton, who had at last
got his pipe agoing, could not forbear offering a few final words on
the subject.
"It's all right, Ned," he remarked, in his gentlest and kindest tones,
"perfectly right and natural that a young fellow should make a fool
of himself. That's exactly what's expected of him. But it isn't
necessary that he should make an _everlasting_ fool of himself.
Not--strictly--necessary."
Edward rose and left the room.
To leave the room in a region upon which unpicturesque prosperity has
not yet descended is equivalent to leaving the house, and that is
exactly what the young man did. Of course there was a loft above that
was reached by a perilously steep pair of stairs; but he was not a cur
to creep away into a kennel.
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