When Mrs.Roberts told me the other day that she was afraid her husband was taking to drink because he went out walking too often with that pretty widow from North Cove--the one with the black and gold bonnet whom they say things about--I answered that I quite envied her, and she didn't in the least understand what I meant.

But I understand, although I can't express myself." "I give up the drink," said Morris; "it disagrees; but perhaps you might introduce me to the widow.

She seems rather attractive." "I will," answered Mary, stamping her foot.

"She's a horrid, vulgar little thing; but I'll ask her to tea, or to stay, and anything, if she can only make you look rather less disembodied." That night the champagne appeared, and, feeling his wife's eyes upon him, Morris swallowed two whole glasses, and in consequence was quite cheerful, for he had eaten little--circumstances under which champagne exhilarates--for a little while.

Then they went into the drawing-room and talked themselves into silence about nothing in particular, after which Morris began to wander round the room and contemplate the furniture as though he had never seen it before.
"What are you fidgeting about ?" asked Mary.