“Oh, Dick, darling, not so! I never doubted you before, and, after this, I cannot do so again. It was I who was a sinner, Dick, to doubt you at all, you dear, good, honest——”
—“Dog,” added Dick, laughing; “for even an unlucky dog may still be an honest one. Yes, Anna,” he added, after a pause, “I do think you may begin to trust me. We have been married about two years, and in all that time not only have I never touched cards or dice, but I have not even wished to do so. For your own peace of mind, try to trust me, my wife.”
“I do, Dick! I do! It was only your look that alarmed me; and, as we were all safe at home here, I could not think of anything but your ‘friends’ that could happen to you. And, more than all, when I asked you what was the matter, you answered, ‘nothing,’ which, as I hinted before always means, ‘Nothing could be worse.’”
“Well, Anna, it really was ‘nothing,’ in one sense of the word, ‘nothing,’ or not much to us that is.”
“What was it, then?”
“Well, I suppose I may tell you without the risk of giving you any great pain. Alexander Lyon has gone mad with jealousy.”
Anna at first looked startled, and then she burst into a hearty peal of laughter.
“I never saw a man out of Bedlam so frantic,” continued Dick.
“I said so!” laughed Anna. “Who is he jealous of? You?”
“Of the whole world, I think!”