"Dear me, ma'am, if you'll pardon the liberty, it does seem that odd to have a lady in this house," said she benevolently.
"Why? Does Mr. Gaunt not have many visitors?" asked Virgie drowsily.
"Oh, never ladies, ma'am! Why, ever since I came, no lady has stayed in this house—no, nor so much as dined! What is it they call the master in these parts—it means one that hates women?"
"Misogynist?" said Virgie. "Have I married a misogynist?"
"Indeed, ma'am; it's high time he was cured. A fine man like him, strong and in the prime of life. We've all wished it, many a time! And cured he could not help but be, once he had seen you, as we all agreed last night," was the flattering verdict, given rather timidly.
The bride coloured, but did not seem offended. She raised herself on her elbow and ate her morsel of toast, asking Grover various questions.
"Our courtship has been so short, I know nothing about his home life," she said. "But this seems to be a very pretty place."
"Pretty indeed, and a different house it will be when once you get it going, and full of friends, ma'am. Of course, they all say he was disappointed in love as a young man, ma'am, and that is why he dislikes the poor ladies so much. I expect, however, you know a good bit more about that than what I do."
"Yes," said Virgie, "I know all about that." She sighed. "I hope I shall do right," she remarked, "but gentlemen who live alone grow very set in their ways. You must tell me of any little tastes or fancies he may have."
Grover laughed gaily as she gathered up the tea-things and went to fill the bath. "You that can turn him round your little finger, I'll be bound," she chuckled.