"I pity his wife," pursued the lady, sighing. "Poor Caroline!"
"She has acted like a fool!" Mr. Lewis broke in angrily. "It was her fault that Sinclair went off. She thorned him perpetually with her exactions. She forgot that lovers are only common folks in a state of evaporation, and that it is in the nature of things that they should get condensed after a time. She wanted him to be for ever picking up her pocket-handkerchief, and writing acrostics on her name. A man can't stand that kind of folderol when he's got to be fifty years old. We begin to develop a taste for common sense when we reach that age."
"He showed no confidence in her," Mrs. Lewis said, with downcast eyes, "He often deceived her, and therefore she always suspected him."
"I think that a man should have no concealments from his wife," said Mr. Southard emphatically.
"That's just what Samson's wife thought when her husband proposed his little conundrum to the Philistines," commented Mr. Lewis.
Margaret got up and followed Aurelia to the window.
"I am very sorry for Cousin Caroline," said Mr. Granger, in his stateliest manner, rising, also, and putting an end to the discussion.
"He is always sorry for any one who can contrive to appear abused," Mr. Lewis said to Margaret. "If you want to interest him, you must be as unfortunate as you can."
Margaret looked at her friend with eyes to which the quick tears started, and blessed him in her heart.
He was passing at the moment, and, catching the remark, feared lest she might be hurt or embarrassed.