‘Lor!’ replied his fair companion, with her favourite twist of her favourite joints. ‘I wish it was me, Britain!’
‘Wish what was you?’
‘A-going to be married,’ said Clemency.
Benjamin took his pipe out of his mouth and laughed heartily. ‘Yes! you’re a likely subject for that!’ he said. ‘Poor Clem!’ Clemency for her part laughed as heartily as he, and seemed as much amused by the idea. ‘Yes,’ she assented, ‘I’m a likely subject for that; an’t I?’
‘You’ll never be married, you know,’ said Mr. Britain, resuming his pipe.
‘Don’t you think I ever shall though?’ said Clemency, in perfect good faith.
Mr. Britain shook his head. ‘Not a chance of it!’
‘Only think!’ said Clemency. ‘Well!—I suppose you mean to, Britain, one of these days; don’t you?’
A question so abrupt, upon a subject so momentous, required consideration. After blowing out a great cloud of smoke, and looking at it with his head now on this side and now on that, as if it were actually the question, and he were surveying it in various aspects, Mr. Britain replied that he wasn’t altogether clear about it, but—ye-es—he thought he might come to that at last.
‘I wish her joy, whoever she may be!’ cried Clemency.