He poked his clams—he hated clams.
“I suppose men think it’s amusing to do such things,” she continued, “but I think it’s as ill-bred as practical joking.”
“But you are married,” he said, trying fiercely to pepper some taste into the tasteless things before him.
“Yes, I’m married,” she admitted tranquilly, “but, then, my husband went to Africa so soon afterwards that he hardly seemed to count at all. And then he was killed there; so, after that, he seemed to count less than ever.”
The air danced exclamation points and the man on the other side spoke to her then so that her turning to answer him gave Jack time to rally his wits.
(A widow!)
Then she turned back and said:
“I think Bob mystified you unnecessarily. Of course I don’t flatter myself that you’ve suffered.”
“Oh, but I have,” he hastened to assure her.
(A widow! A widow!)