"I say, what makes you cry?" he asked.
"I—I don't know," said Penelope.
"Girls are very rum. Baker says they are. He's not married, you know. He says mules are easy to them. He drove mules once in India, he says. You know you are doing all this off your own bat, Pen, ain't you? Why don't you chuck it?"
"Chuck what, dear?"
"Oh, this notion of not letting on. Baker says it's the rummest start he ever knew, and he says he's seen some rum things in his life, especially when he was a sergeant in the Dublin Fusiliers. Can't you chuck it?"
"Oh, no, certainly not," said Pen, firmly. "It's only, Bob, that I'm not used to it yet, you see."
"Of course not," said Bob. "Being married is strange at first, I suppose. Baker says he knew a woman who was married four times, and by the fourth time she wasn't nervous to speak of. But is it true, Pen, that you won't tell any one who it is?"
"I won't," said Pen.
"Bravo," cried Bob. "Stick to it. Oh, it will make granny so savage! Has Bill spoken about it to you?"
"He laughs," said Pen. "He always does laugh."