‘Who me, sir? Lor’ no, sir. He was afraid if he stayed that he would make a fool of himself. Only one thing emerged with any reasonable clarity in her mind at once, and that was that unless she was saved from drowning by an unmarried man, in which case the ceremony is unavoidable, or totally destitute of under-clothing, and so driven to get a trousseau, in which hardship a trousseau would certainly be “ripping,” marriage was an experience to be strenuously evaded. ‘Comment? This is not a mirror!’ It was a portrait. “Odd!” he remarked, rather surprisingly, after a little interval. ‘How do you do? I am so happy to meet you.
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