"You know what I mean," said the trader, gravely. Now, you and I can gossip at a gate, and Honi soit qui mal y pense. “But you’re wrong. “She wasn’t sane, my wife. ‘Will you let be?’ Instead she grasped his hand tighter. Ain't we, partner?" he added, appealing to Langley, whom punch had made rather dozy. You did not marry her because you loved her; you did not marry because she might have had money; you did not marry her out of gratitude; you did not marry her because you had to. She had been so busy with life that, for a vast gulf of time, as it seemed, she had given no thought to those ancient, imagined things of her childhood. She struggled fiercely not to give way.
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