The Argosy — page 135: what you’re looking at

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118 Ox and Off. money enough to buy him a practice, and give him a fresh start— for Wilfrid had no mind to go tothe dogs, or to be called ‘‘ Poor Chesney” by his friends) He and Ada met a few times at the houses of mutual acquaintances, who lived under pleasing delusions. about the position of both parties; they liked each other fairly well, and Mrs. Lifford (who was in very weak health) was anxious to see: Ada settled. Hence the present situation of affairs, and therefore: are they sitting side by side on one of the benches near the sea,. feeling tired and cross, and heartily sick of Ventnor, each wonder- ing how long this sort of thing was going to last, and neither liking to be the first to say so. “There!” said Ada, jumping up at last. ‘‘ That miserable young man in the bath-chair has passed six times while we have been sitting here, and I can’t stand seeing hima seventh. I hate sick men.” ‘‘T suppose men have to be sick sometimes as well as women,” remarked her husband, rather gloomily. The speech was not a pleasant one to hear from his future ministering angel. ‘Then they shouldn’t wear scarlet knitted comforters, to make themselves look worse. And they should either get well or die, and not attempt to do the interesting invalid. It is only women that can play that part. Let us go in, do; I am tired of them all, men and women.” ‘ Are you tired of Ventnor?” asked Wilfrid, seizing his chance. ‘Perhaps you would not care to stay here long?” “Well, really, since you propose it, I think we might do better. I don’t care for knocking about in hotels and trying to make holiday at this time of year, unless we could go quite south, to the Riviera or Naples.” ‘Suppose we have a regular business talk, then, and settle our plans—give up billing and cooing, and take to bills and counting?” ‘‘ We haven’t been doing so very much of the billing and cooing,” said Ada, witha little pout ; “‘it doesn’t seem in our line. I dare say the realities of life will suit us better.” Wilfrid did not see his way to reply to this accusation, so he told his wife, with an air of solicitude, that her dress was in the mud. It is odd that nothing annoys a woman like this kindly-meant warning : for your own sake you may just as well tread on her skirt and tear it, as remark to her that it is sweeping the street. Ada said “* Bother !” picked up the offending fold, and walked on in silence. On the table of their hotel sitting-room there lay a yellow envelope, directed to Mrs. Chesney. Ada tore it open, and read a bluntly- worded message from a servant, telling of her aunt’s sudden death. She sat down, faint and shocked. ‘‘When did it happen, dear?” said her husband, putting his arm round her. “This morning, quite early,” she answered, tearfully, ‘Oh, I can’t believe it. Poor aunt; she was very kind to me.” Gomicbooks (E(e)