"Will you? That will be nice for Twelves. I should like to be present at the shaking. You look as if you could shake him."
"I should think I could--shake the bones right out of his body. I'm as strong as a horse--stronger than most men. I once thought of coming out as a strong woman, only I didn't fancy the training."
"Didn't you? By training do you mean clean and healthy living? Is that what you disliked?"
She had already repented her lapse into the autobiographical.
"Never you mind what I mean."
"We won't; why should we? May I take it that you have got over the disappointment of not finding me dead, and have become reconciled to the idea of my living?"
"You don't look to me as if you would live long, considering that you're as good as dead already."
"You think so. We've not been long at arriving at that stage of perfect candour which, I fancy, marks the career of the average husband and wife. I think you're wrong. I am one of those beings who are very tenacious of life. I'm only fifty, whatever I may look. There's no real reason--your friend Dr. Twelves will tell you--why I shouldn't live another five-and-twenty years."
"I don't care what he says after what he told me. I'll bet you don't."
"Suppose I do, would you propose to spend them with me?"