So later he returned to a very bright-eyed wife. He dropped into a seat and she was happier still at the happiness in his eyes. For a time he was quiet; then suddenly he slanted his head at her. He began to tell her about the pots and pans.
"Some battle!" he drawled at the finish of it. "Champion—winner take all!"
Nor had he been able to keep down a little note of pride. It was quite as if, still humbly, in his own plains' talk, he had assured her, "Your husband is no dub."
And so she started that soon to become better acquainted with him. He was no braggart with others; to his own wife he would boast a little. Husbands were likely to, she realized—she loved him more.
And the words had started a thought in her own head. She had lost that phrase of Felicity's, and searched for it, and was glad to find it again.
"Some battle," she echoed softly. "Some battle—winner take all."
Then she rose and went to him.
"Perry, lad," she murmured, "I'm not sure but what there are two champions, right here in this very car!"