So, deeming discretion the better part of valour, I retreated in disorder."
"That's bad," remarked Wilkinson, who knew something of the character of his friend's wife.
"I know it's bad; but, then, I can't help myself. Cara has such a queer temper, I never know how to take her."
"You ought to understand her peculiarities by this time, and bear with them."
"Bear with them! I'd like to see you have the trial for a while; your wife is an angel. Ah, John! you're a lucky dog. If I had such a sweet-tempered woman in my house, I would think it a very paradise."
"Hush! hush! Harry; don't speak in that way. Few women possess so many good qualities as Mrs. Ellis; and it is your duty to cherish and love the good, and to bear with the rest."
"Well preached; but, as I am to apply the discourse, and not you, I must beg to be excused."
"Good-night. Go home, kiss Cara, and forgive her," said Wilkinson; and he made a motion to pass on, adding, as he did so, "I'm out much later than usual, and am in a hurry to get back. Mary will be uneasy about me."
But Ellis caught hold of one of his arms with both hands, and held on to him.
"Can't let you go, Wilkinson" said he, firmly. "You're the man of all others I want to see—been thinking about you all the evening; want to have a long talk with you."