"It may be a part of her capacious frame to risk her life in marrying Sidney Lorimer," Bobby grumbled; "but, for my part, I prefer smaller women."
Sally faced him suddenly.
"Bobby! You don't mean you think he will kill her sometime when he is drunk?"
"No such luck! In the intervals, he will adore her and treat her like a princess; but he won't spare her the anxiety and the shame of knowing he is liable to take too much at any reception to which they may send an acceptance. You haven't seen men as I have, Sally; you don't know how far they can make babbling fools of themselves, without being absolutely drunk. To a girl like Beatrix, the shame of it when it does occur, and the fear of the shame, when it doesn't, would be worse than sudden death. That gets over and done with; the other hangs on and grows worse and worse to an endless end."
"And you think there's no cure?"
Once more Bobby shrugged his shoulders.
"I wouldn't take any chances."
"You think Beatrix can't hold him?"
"She can for a time; but there's no knowing how long the time will last. Any medicine loses its effect, if it is repeated often enough."
"What about Mr. Thayer?"