'Isn't Mr. Roarings an
Irishman, an' was born in Dubling? Now I'd like to know 'ow any one
can get from Ireland to London without crossin' water, anyway!'
[Illustration: 'Oo ses the Signs is wrong?']
Marion bowed her head, meekly acquiescent. 'I never thought of that,
Elizabeth. You always seem to be right.'
CHAPTER XX
I had not seen Marion and William since their marriage as they had gone
on a six-months' tour of the Italian lakes, but I was haunted with the
foreboding that the match was not, after all, turning out a success.
For one thing, Marion's silence regarding her marriage was unusual.
She wrote only brief notes that made no reference to William. As for
William, he did not write at all.
Now Marion is what you would call an ardent correspondent, as well as
being a communicative person. If she were happy she would be likely to
write no less than eight pages three times a week breathing praise of
William--I mean that would be the general tone of her letters. But now
she devoted herself exclusively to descriptions of scenery and relating
episodes regarding the constant losing and regaining of their baggage
on their journeys, which though in its way instructive, struck me as
lacking vital interest.
The affair troubled me, because I knew that I was, in a measure,
responsible for the match. William had left the decision in my hands,
and, on thinking it over, it struck me as a rather cowardly thing to
do.
Pages:
131
132
133
134
135
136
137
138
139
140
141
142
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155