Then the thought of being rid of Mrs. Menzies-Legh and her John and Jellaby at, so to speak, one swoop, and continuing the tour purged of these baser elements with the tender lady entirely in our charge, made me unable to repress a smile of satisfaction.
Menzies-Legh looked in his turn surprised. “I am glad,” he said, “that you don’t mind.”
“My dear sir,” I said courteously, “of course I mind, and we shall miss you and your—er—er—” it was difficult on the spur of the moment to find an adjective, but Frau von Eckthum’s praises of her sister the night before coming into my mind I popped in the word suggested suggested—“angelic wife——”
He stared—ungratefully I thought, considering the effort it had been.
“But,” I continued, “you may be very sure we shall take every care of your sister-in-law, and return her safe and well into your hands on September the first, which is the date my contract with the owner of the Elsa expires.”
“I’m afraid,” said he, “I wasn’t clear. We all go. Betti included, and Jumps and Jane too. I’m very sorry,” he interrupted, as I opened my mouth, “very sorry indeed that things should have turned out so unexpectedly, but it is absolutely impossible for us to go on. Out of the question.”
And he set his jaws, and shut his mouth into a mere line of opposition and finality.
Well, my friends, what do you say to that? What do you think of this example of the surprises life has in store for one? And, incidentally, what do you think of human nature? Especially of human nature when it caravans? And still more especially of human nature that is also English? Not without reason do our neighbours label the accursèd island perfide Albion. It is true I am not clear about the Albion, but I am very clear about the perfide.
“Do you mean to tell me,” I said, leaning toward him across the table and forcing him to meet my gaze, “that your sister-in-law wishes to go with you?”
“She does,” said he.