'Well, we won't argue about it, Margaret.'
'I loathe twins,' I grumbled.
And he said he did, too, the sort that spat fire when a chap tried to take care of them.
Suddenly the bottom dropped out of the world, and everything that I had thought solid, stable, and immovable came crashing about me, and my brother, for the first and last time in all his life was 'meek' to me and said,—
'Please, darling, because I found mother after she smashed herself up so badly.'
It was that tide in the affairs of men which had I taken at the flood would have tamed the lion to eat out of my hand. Oh, wasn't I a fool to say,—
'Oh, all right, Ross.'
But there it is, and I know now what that poor darling felt when he wrote Paradise Lost.
CHAPTER XX
A telegram came from Monica this morning saying,—