“No, I did not,” she answered.
“If it is not an impertinent question,” observed Shearman, “may I inquire how long you have been married to Doctor Bourne?”
“Sir!” ejaculated the lady.
“Pray excuse the observation. Do not imagine, madam, that I am inquiring out of mere idle curiosity. Gentlemen in our profession seldom do that.”
“I confess I am at a loss to understand the reason for such a question, but there is no secret in the matter—indeed, there is no reason for secrecy. I have been married to the doctor between five and six years.”
“More than five years of wedded bliss,” ejaculated the American.
“I have not said so.”
“Ahem! No. But I infer it. I hope the inference is a correct one, for your sake.”
“I do not as yet see what you are driving at, sir,” returned Mrs. Bourne, a little nettled, “and for the life of me cannot understand what my wedded bliss, as you term it, has to do with you.”
“Pardon my friend,” cried Wrench, coming to the rescue, “he’s at times too plain-spoken, and, I think I may add, a little too inquisitive, but it is a way he and his countrymen have, and which, I am sure, or at any rate I hope, you will overlook.”