In point of fact, the name was as
strange to me as the man.
The next morning I hastened to where my brother
was employed and met him coming out of the office
with a number of bills that he was to collect. I told
him how I had 'committed' him and added that if
he didn't care to keep the engagement I should be
delighted to continue the impersonation.
'That's queer,' he said thoughtfully. 'Margovan
is the only man in the office here whom I know well
and like. When he came in this morning and we had
passed the usual greetings some singular impulse
prompted me to say: "Oh, I beg your pardon, Mr.
Margovan, but I neglected to ask your address." I
got the address, but what under the sun I was to do
with it, I did not know until now. It's good of you to
offer to take the consequence of your impudence, but
I'll eat that dinner myself, if you please.'
He ate a number of dinners at the same place--
more than were good for him, I may add without
disparaging their quality; for he fell in love with
Miss Margovan, proposed marriage to her and was
heartlessly accepted.
Several weeks after I had been informed of the
engagement, but before it had been convenient for
me to make the acquaintance of the young woman
and her family, I met one day on Kearney Street
a handsome but somewhat dissipated-looking man
whom something prompted me to follow and watch,
which I did without any scruple whatever.
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