“ ’Course not. Not in the least to blame.”
“Fancy his being married!”
“I’m doing that,” said Clem, with rather a wonderful expression on his face. “But, look here, suppose we do the rest of our fancyin’ in the 12.30 to town? Nice time to catch it.”
“Well, I can’t stop here, can I?”
“Wouldn’t do.”
They had a first-class compartment all to themselves, and Uncle Clem made a most favourable impression upon Miss Esme. She thought him such a nice old gentleman. He talked of such pleasant things in such a pleasant way. He wasn’t a bit prudish, and seemed to think she had done perfectly right in coming away with Wynne.
“Still, I do think it was very wrong of him, as he was married,” she said.
“Yes—yes—yes. Still, it’s a queer world. You see he may have forgotten he was married—some folk do. He may never really have known—but he will know. My dear, it isn’t until we realize the wonder of another that we become wonderful ourselves. You don’t know what you’ve done for that young man.”
“Somehow I don’t believe I should like to have married him,” said Esme, thoughtfully.
“You don’t! No! Well, there you are, you see! Yet somebody is always wanted by somebody else, and that somebody else can always make that somebody into something. Victoria! Wouldn’t be any harm to kiss you good-night, would it? ’Course not! That’s right Splendid!”