human
Do you know, Buckingham, you puzzle me; you were evidently happier in our little circle at the Hoffman House than in billiard, smoking, or reading-rooms, and just now in the saloon you seemed so content with Miss Crew, my wife and our boy, that I again wonder a man with these tastes, and who has made his little pile, does not marry, said Mr. Dale, in flute-like tones, distinctly English in accent.
gpt
I really think, my dear fellow, you would be happier in big New York city with some one in it to make a home for you.
human
I am quite sure your words are kindly meant, Dale, but look at me, he says tranquilly,
gpt
I am not dwarfed by care, being six feet in my stockings, I have no worrying lines written on my forehead, and between you and I, I am fifty; to be sure I am bald and grey, but that is New York life, a bachelor life, then, has not served me ill; there is a woman at Toronto I should like as my wife, but until I can give her the few luxuries I now deem necessities, I shall remain as I am.
human
I regret your decision, Buckingham, it is a rock many men split on, this waiting for wealth and missing wifely companionship.
gpt
Perhaps you are right; but I should not care to risk it,
human
And you a speculator!
gpt
You must excuse me now, Buckingham, I promised my wife to go and read her a letter descriptive of Toronto, as we, you know, have not been there.
human
Who is the writer, if I may know?
gpt
Our mutual friend at Toronto, Mrs. Gower.
human
Oh, I am with you then,