The count fled from our minds like an offended god. We ejaculated, “Berwick!—Mrs. Stregazzi!” and sat stunned.
Lizzie consulted the letter:
“Last week in Portland, Maine. She says, ‘We’re as happy as clams and everybody predicts a great future for Dan.’”
“Well!” I breathed and looked at the other two. Lizzie’s temper was gone, a shared sensation made her one with us.
“Did you ever!” she murmured as any ordinary young woman might have done.
“Why she’s fifteen years older than he is.”
“More like twenty. She’s not so young as she looks.”
“Good gracious, how extraordinary!” I fell back in my chair aghast before this evidence of a woman’s daring. “And those two children, and the grandmother!” Mrs. Stregazzi’s dauntless courage began to pale when I compared it to the bridegroom’s.
“Maybe he wanted a home,” Miss Bliss hazarded.
“A man may want a home but he doesn’t want a ready-made family in it.”