Lucille sat down and gazed forlornly at him with her big grey eyes. She was registering something, but Archie could not gather what it was.
“Archie, darling, when you married me you undertook to share my sorrows, didn’t you?”
“Absolutely! It’s all in the book of words. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, all-down-set-’em-up-in-the-other-alley. Regular iron-clad contract!”
“Then share ’em!” said Lucille. “Bill’s in love again!”
Archie blinked.
“Bill? When you say Bill, do you mean Bill? Your brother Bill? My brother-in-law Bill? Jolly old William, the son and heir of the Brewsters?”
“I do.”
“You say he’s in love? Cupid’s dart?”
“Even so!”
“But, I say! Isn’t this rather—What I mean to say is, the lad’s an absolute scourge! The Great Lover, what! Also ran, Brigham Young, and all that sort of thing! Why, it’s only a few weeks ago that he was moaning brokenly about that vermilion-haired female who subsequently hooked on to old Reggie van Tuyl!”