“Gods! what a muddle it is!” he muttered... “A beastly lot of sentiment,—a beastly uncomfortable time of it,—and then,—reaction. And men go out of their way to tumble into these kind of messes. Hanged if I can understand it!”
The following morning he surprised his wife with the inquiry:
“Connie, were you ever in love before you met me?”
“Lots of times,” she answered cheerfully.
“How was it you never married one of the crowd?” he asked, a trifle nettled by the unexpectedly frank reply.
“Because none of them asked me,” she replied with extraordinary candour.
“Oh!” he said. He pondered this for a second or so. “I suppose you married me as a sort of substitute?” he added.
She gave a little amused laugh.
“Guess again,” she said.
He went to her and put an awkward arm about her neck.