'Phew!' he said. 'Monstrous dull, isn't it? As for me, I never intend to
marry. And if you don't marry, what do you want with money? You used to
despise it enough once. And do you remember our favourite line: "_Our
loves into corpses or wives_?"'
'Hush!' I said, for wives have ears.
'Is it Alice Sunshine?' he asked.
'No,' I said, 'not Alice Sunshine.'
'Maud Willow?'
'No, not Maud Willow.'
'Jenny Hopkins?'
'No, not Jenny Hopkins.'
'Lucy Rainbow?'
'No, not Lucy Rainbow.'
'Now who else was there? I cannot remember them all. Ah, I remember now.
It wasn't Lilian, after all?'
'No, poor Lilian died ten years ago. I am afraid you don't know my wife. I
don't think you ever met.'
'It isn't Edith Appleblossom, surely? Is it?'
'No, I ...' and then I stopped just in time! 'No, you don't know my wife,
I'm sure, and if you don't mind my saying so, I think I had better not
introduce you. Forgive me, but she wouldn't quite understand you, I
fear....'
'Wouldn't quite approve, eh?' said he, with a merry laugh. 'Poor old
chap!'
'Well, I'm better off than that,' he continued. 'Why, Doll and I love for
a week, and then forget each other's names in a twelvemonth, when Poll
comes along, and so on. And neither of us is any the worse, believe me.
We're one as fickle as the other, so where's the harm?'
'Ah, my dear fellow, you did make a mistake,' he ran on. 'I suppose you
forget Robert Louis' advice--_"Times are changed with him who marries,"_
etc.'
'He's married himself,' I replied.
'And I suppose you never drop in for a pipe at "The Three Tuns" now of an
evening?'
'No! I haven't been near the place these many years.'
'Poor old fellow! The Bass is superb at present.
I recollected. 'Won't you have some wine with me?' I said. 'I have some
fine old Chianti. And take a cigar?'
'No, thanks, old man. I'm too sad. Come with me to "The Three Tuns," and
let's have an honest pint and an honest pipe together. I don't care about
cigars. Come to-night. Let's make a night of it. We'll begin at "The Three
Tuns," then call at "The Blue Posts," look in at "The Dog and Fire-irons,"
and finish up at "The Shakespeare's Head." What was it we used to troll?--
'From tavern to tavern
Youth passes along,
With an armful of girl
And a heart-full of song.'
'Hush!' I cried in terror; 'it is impossible. I cannot. Come to my club
instead.' But he shook his head.
I persuaded him to have some Chianti at last, but he drank it without
spirit, and thus we sat far into the night talking of old days.
Before he went I made him a definite offer--he must have bewitched me, I
am sure--I offered him no less than £5000 and a share in the business for
the sprig of almond-blossom the ridiculous young pagan carried in his hat.
And will you believe me? He declined the offer.