"I suppose so," she said, "but it seems dreadfully dreary."
"What seems dreadfully dreary?" inquired the bachelor.
"Matrimony," replied the widow solemnly. "It IS like those old chairs and pipes and shoes and things you were speaking of; it's full of holes and breaks and bare spots, and it won't always work—but there's nothing that will quite take the place of it."
"Nothing," said the bachelor, promptly. "That's why I want to—"
The widow rose quickly and shook out her skirts.
"Now, don't begin that, Billy," she said, trying to be severe, "you're too old!"
"Oh, well, I'm still in good repair," protested the bachelor.
The widow shook her head.
"All the varnish is worn off your ideals," she objected, "and the hinges of your enthusiasm creak and you've got a bare spot on the top of your head, and——"
