Leah's admirer cut short a much-dreaded anecdote. "She'll make a lovely widow."
"I don't believe in second-hand brides myself," said the horsey man, venturing an epigram. "'Sides, her tongue--cuts like a knife. Even the mares shy when she kicks."
"Wit! wit!" explained the admirer, who misread French memoirs. "She is Madame de Rambouillet--without a history."
"Hum! She hasn't published one yet, but I dare say----"
"Tut! tut!" interrupted the ancient. "Madame de Rambouillet was, and Lady James is, entirely respectable."
"And the horse is the noblest of all animals," snapped the baronet.
"Maybe, though the beast doesn't improve your morals," and the laugh was with the oldest inhabitant.
"Wonder if Kaimes will die," pondered the man who saw Leah as a probable widow and a possible wife.
"Lay you ten to five he won't."
"You will lose; you will most assuredly lose," said the octogenarian. "Very consumptive family, the Kaimes. And our friend is just the sort of healthy man to depart suddenly."