"Whew!" whistled Mr. Curtis, "I see, says the blind man. What a thing conjugal affection is, to be sure! When do you go?"
"This day week, in the Golden Arrow. And for some inscrutable feminine reason Georgia wishes you to preserve her secret inviolable until she returns. She is still Miss Randall; you understand? You and Mr. Leonard are not to mention she is Richmond Wildair's runaway wife."
"I'm dumb," said Mr. Curtis, shutting his lips as firmly as though they were never to be opened on earth again. "Neither tortures, nor anguish, nor bad pale ale shall tear from this lacerated heart the fearful secret. Are you going to see after that prize of yours to-morrow, Mrs. Wild—gee Whittaker! I mean Miss Randall," said he, dropping his tone of stage agony, and speaking in his natural voice.
"Most decidedly," said Georgia, smiling.
"And then you are going to throw yourself away on our painfully clever friend Wildair again, and leave all your friends here in Gotham to pine away, with tears in their eyes and their fingers in their mouths," said Mr. Curtis, in a lugubrious tone; "it's something I never expected of you, Mrs. Wil—pooh! I mean Miss Randall, and I must say I, for one, never deserved it."
"Mr. Curtis, you—you were in Burnfield since I was," said Georgia, hesitatingly, and coloring deeply; "how was Miss Jerusha and Emily Murray?"
"Well they were both in a state of mind—rather," said Mr. Curtis. "Miss Jerusha flamed up, and blew us all, sky high, in fact raised the ancient Harry, in a way quite appalling to a person of tender nerves—myself, for instance—and gave Richmond what may be called, without exaggeration, particular fits! As for little Emily," said Mr. Curtis, turning red suddenly, "she—she didn't scold anybody, but she cried and took on so that I felt—I felt a sort of all-over as it were—a very peculiar feeling, to use a mild phrase, if you observe."
"Dear little Emily," said Georgia, sighing.
"That's just what I said," said Mr. Curtis, eagerly "but she didn't pay any attention to it. I suppose you know I—I went—I mean I asked—that is I offered—pshaw! what d'ye call it—proposed," said Mr. Curtis, blushing, and squirming uneasily in his chair.
"No, I did not know it," said Georgia, with difficulty repressing a smile.