Ben threw a cushion at him with masterly accuracy, as Melanie, all radiance and joy, came into the room.
XL
Merrill, looking very attractive in her weeds, sat in Ben's room, interfering not a little with "The Beck and Call's" machinery. But that, of course, is the principal industry of all widows who call on business people.
"I call it very selfish and horrid of Alicia," she said. "Here she is, about to marry this rich old ironmonger——"
"Ironmaster," Ben corrected.
"Ironmaster, then. It's the same thing," said Merrill. "Here she is, anyway, about to be happy herself and have all her worries about money and about the boys removed for ever, and she has the cheek to say that I oughtn't even to see Roland—that's Captain Andrews, you know—for another three months. What do you think of that?"
"Well," said Ben, "I disagree. I think you should do exactly as you want to."
"And marry at once?"