CHAPTER VIII
She loved him so! Perfect he was. Simply perfect. Perfectly simple. In every way. A paragon.
He never even swore. Hanging a picture, he caught his thumb a proper crack with a hammer, that is to say, he hit it. “Mice and mumps!” cried Harry. She loved him so.
Oh, rare saying! It epitomized Harry to her—his only swear word. So perfect he was! “Mice and mumps!” Never anything stronger. Never “Rats and rickets!” Never “Snakes and scarlet-fever.” Never “Terrapins and tuberculosis!” No. Only “Mice and mumps.” She loved him so! Oh, rapturous affinity!