Part 28

“I think it was just perfect, Mr. Carter.”

“But for my part, I can only say that I never heard of such a dull affair in all my life.”

“Dull!” gasped Miss Phyllis.

“Dull!” murmured Mrs. Hilary.

“Dull!” chuckled Hilary.

“It was,” said I severely, “without a spark of interest from beginning to end. Such things happen by thousands. It’s commonplaceness itself. I had some hopes when you father assumed a firm attitude, but--”

“Mother was such a dear,” interrupted Mrs. Hilary.

“Just so. She gave away the whole situation. Then I did trust that Hilary would lose his place, or develop an old flame, or do something just a little interesting.”

“It was a perfect time,” said Mrs. Hilary.

“I wonder why in the world you told me about it,” I pursued.

“I don’t know why I did,” said Mrs. Hilary dreamily.

“The only possible excuse for an engagement like that,” I observed, “is to be found in intense post-nuptial unhappiness.”

Hilary rose, and advanced towards his wife.

“Your embroidery’s falling on the floor,” said he.

“Not a bit of it,” said I.

“Yes, it is,” he persisted; and he picked it up and gave it to her. Miss Phyllis smiled delightedly. Hilary had squeezed his wife’s hand.

“Then we don’t excuse it,” said he.

I took out my watch. I was not finding much entertainment.

“Surely it’s quite early, old man?” said Hilary.

“It’s nearly eleven. We’ve spent half-an-hour on the thing,” said I peevishly, holding out my hand to my hostess.

“Oh, are you going? Good night, Mr. Carter.”

I turned to Miss Phyllis.

“I hope you won’t think all love affairs are like that,” I said; but I saw her lips begin to shape into “lovely,” and I hastily left the room.

Hilary came to help me on with my coat. He looked extremely apologetic, and very much ashamed of himself.

“Awfully sorry, old chap,” said he, “that we bored you with our reminiscences. I know, of course, that they can’t be very interesting to other people. Women are so confoundedly romantic.”

“Don’t try that on me,” said I, much disgusted. “You were just as bad yourself.”

He laughed, as he leant against the door.

“She did look ripping in that white frock,” he said, “with her hair--”