“How is the hound?—begging the pardon of all honest hounds.”
She was too sure of her own feelings toward her husband to feel it necessary to rush to his defense—against a former rival. Her answer was, “He's well enough to raise a handsome row if he saw you and me together.”
He grumbled a full double-barreled oath and did not apologize for it. She spoke coldly:
“You'd better go back to your seat.”
She was as severe as a woman can well be with a man who adores her and writhes with jealousy of a man she adores.
“I'll be good, Teacher,” he said. “Was he over there with you?”
She evidently liked to talk about her husband. She brightened as she spoke. “Yes, for a while. He drove a motor-ambulance, you know, but it bored him after a month or two. They wouldn't let him up to the firing-lines, so he quit. Have you seen him?”
“Once or twice.”
“He's looking well, isn't he?”
“Yes, confound him! His handsome features have been my ruin.”