"I'd like to marry Mary!..." Henry began.
"Why don't you, then?" Gilbert interrupted.
"Because I feel that I must go to her absolutely undivided, Gilbert. Do you know what I mean? I want to be able to go to her, knowing that no other woman can sway me from her for a second. It would be horrible to be married to her and feel something lurking inside me, just waiting for a chance to spring out and ... and make love to some one else!"
"You've changed a lot, Quinny, since the days when you pleaded for infinite variety. You wanted a wife for every mood!..."
Henry laughed. "We did talk a lot of rot when we first went to London," he said, putting his arm in Gilbert's.
"It wasn't all rot. My contributions to the discussion were very sensible. I wonder what's the excitement up there! The papers are in!..."
There was a group of visitors sitting on the seats in front of the hotel and they were reading the newspapers which had just been sent out from Holyhead.
"Let's go and ask," Henry exclaimed, and they both went on more quickly.
"Any news?" Gilbert shouted as they mounted the steps leading from the carriage-way to the terrace.
"Yes. Bad news from Ireland," a visitor answered.