He felt like a man who was nailing his colors to the mast.
"The young lady," he said, "is, I pray Heaven, my future wife!" Spencer was honestly amazed, and a little shocked.
"Forgive me, Duncombe," he said.

"I had no idea--though perhaps I ought to have guessed." They went on with their luncheon in silence for some time, except for a few general remarks.

But after the coffee had been brought and the cigarettes were alight, Spencer leaned once more across the table.
"Tell me, Duncombe, what you mean to do." "I shall go to the Cafe Montmartre myself to-night.

At such a place there must be hangers-on and parasites who see something of the game.

I shall try to come into touch with them.