Susie.—“Your husband, my love? He is getting on capitally: he is the picture of health, and seems to grow younger every day.”
Jennie.—“You don’t mean it! Is it possible! I had been told he was inconsolable, and was wasting away. Poor dear! I fancy I see him now as he stood by my bedside. ‘If you go, I shall not be long for this world,’ he said to me.”
Susie.—“Ah! well, my dear, make your mind easy, he is better, he has got over it.”
Jennie.—“Heaven be praised! And yet—I know it’s selfishness—but I should like to have him here with me.”
Susie.—“But has nobody told you he is married?...”
Jennie.—“Married! I don’t believe a word of it.”
Susie.—“It is true enough, though. I took tea with his wife not more than a fortnight ago.”
Jennie.—“Fancy the wretch! What a set the men are to be sure!... And what woman has been mad enough to tie herself to him? the old grumbler, old tyrant, old miser ... the....”
Susie.—“Hush, my love; remember where you are.... Besides, between ourselves, I don’t believe he is over happy.”
Jennie.—“Serve him right ... the idea ... at his age too.... Perhaps he thought he was going to be married for his good looks, the idiot!”