"Well, have your own way," I answered. "For my own part, I have no such scruples. I have been married too long."
I rang the bell, and, when my refreshment was brought to me, drank it slowly, as became a philosopher.
It would appear that Miss Trevor had already told my wife, for I was destined to listen to a considerable amount of information concerning it before I was allowed to close my eyes that night.
"I always said that they were suited to each other," she observed. "She will make an ideal Duchess, and I think he may consider himself a very lucky fellow. What did he say about it?"
"He admitted that he was not nearly good enough for her."
"That was nice of him. And what did you say?"
"I told him to come to me in five years' time and let me hear what he had to say then," I answered with a yawn.
I had an idea that I should get into trouble over that remark, and I was not mistaken. I was told that it was an unfeeling thing to have said, that it was not the sort of idea to put into a young man's head at such a time, and that if every one had such a good wife as some other people she could name, they would have reason to thank their good fortune.
"If I am not mistaken, you told me you were not good enough for me when I accepted you," she retorted. "What do you say now?"
"Exactly what I said then," I answered diplomatically. "I am not good enough for you. You should have married the Dean."