"I loved her," said Bosworth, vaguely.
"I have always said that a man shouldn't marry a second time," proceeded Mr. Van Pycke. Bosworth sniffed. Mr. Van Pycke went on: "That is, until his first wife has been—er—at rest for fifteen years or more. It's only decent."
"I see," said Bosworth, comprehending.
"You do?" demanded his father, a bit upset.
"Who is she, dad?"
Mr. Van Pycke's chin was so far down in the baby lamb that his reply was barely audible. "I hope to be able to tell you in the morning—perhaps late this evening, my son."
The young man was smiling in his corner of the cab. "Are you quite sure you love her, dad?" he asked, without guile.
Mr. Van Pycke coughed.
"Perhaps you'd better wait till morning to tell me that, too," said his son, coming to the rescue.