Thus the first eighteen months of her married life had passed not unhappily away; and she lived, and loved, and hoped for the time when Harry would put from him entirely the gay, dancing, playing, flirting, immature existence, which was so unbecoming to his domestic and civil honor as a husband and a father. Indeed, he was himself beginning to be aware of the incongruity; for he said to Adriana one evening at the close of October:
“I saw Cousin Alida to-day. She is in town for the winter.”
“What did she say, Harry? When is she coming here?”
“She will call to-morrow. She hoped I would not compel her to go into the gay places of the world this year. I do believe the old lady went out so much last season just to watch me, just to make me wait upon her, and so keep me out of temptation. Fancy Miss Alida as my chaperon! It was very good of her—but fruitless.”
Adriana smilingly asked: “What did you say about the gay places, Harry?”
“I told her I was going to have my fling this year, and after this year you and I would settle down to a sensible career. I told her, indeed, that I intended to go into politics.”
“You have a great ability for politics, Harry. Professor Snowdon says you are a natural orator. How I should like to hear you make a great political speech!”
“Well, pet, some day perhaps you may have your desire. I think of taking lessons in elocution this winter.”
“Do not, Harry. Your own speech and gestures are better than acquired ones. I am sure you will make a great debater.”