It was as if his tongue instead of his eyes had uttered the exclamation—“Ah, then she has told you!”—for Miss Madden took it as having been spoken. “I'm not disposed to pretend that I'm overjoyed about it, you know,” she said to him bluntly, as their hands dropped, and they stood facing each other. “If I said I congratulated you, it would be only the emptiest form. And I hate empty forms.”
“Why should you think that I won't make a good husband?” Thorpe asked the question with a good-natured if peremptory frankness which came most readily to him in the presence of this American lady, herself so outspoken and masterful.
“I don't know that I specially doubt it,” she replied. “I suppose any man has in him the makings of what is called a good husband—if the conditions are sufficiently propitious.”
“Well then—what's the matter with the conditions?” he demanded, jocosely.
Miss Madden shrugged her shoulders slightly. Thorpe noted the somewhat luxuriant curves of these splendid shoulders, and the creamy whiteness of the skin, upon which, round the full throat, a chain of diamonds lay as upon satin—and recalled that he had not seen her before in what he phrased to himself as so much low-necked dress. The deep fire-gleam in her broad plaits of hair gave a wonderful brilliancy to this colouring of brow and throat and bosom. He marvelled at himself for discovering only now that she also was beautiful—and then thrilled with pride at the thought that henceforth his life might be passed altogether among beautiful women, radiant in gems and costly fabrics, who would smile upon him at his command.
“Oh, I have no wish to be a kill-joy,” she protested. “I'm sure I hope all manner of good results from the—the experiment.”
“I suppose that's what it comes to,” he said, meditatively. “It's all an experiment. Every marriage in the world must be that—neither more nor less.”
“With all the experience of the ages against its coming out right.” She had turned to move toward a chair, but looked now over her shoulder at him. “Have you ever seen what seemed to you an absolutely happy marriage in your life?”
Upon reflection he shook his head. “I don't recall one on the spur of the minute,” he confessed. “Not the kind, I mean, that you read about in books. But I've seen plenty where the couple got along together in a good, easy, comfortable sort of way, without a notion of any sort of unpleasantness. It's people who marry too young who do most of the fighting, I imagine. After people have got to a sensible age, and know what they want and what they can get along without, why then there's no reason for any trouble. We don't start out with any school-boy and school-girl moonshine.”
“Oh, there's a good deal to be said for the moonshine,” she interrupted him, as she sank upon the sofa.