And that, oddly enough, was the one private talk I ever had with the Margaret Hugonin whom, for some two weeks, I had believed myself to be upon the verge of marrying; for the next time I conversed with her alone she was Mrs. William Woods.
"Oh, go away, Billy!" she then said, impatiently "How often will I have to tell you it isn't decent to be always hanging around your wife? Oh, you dear little crooked-necktied darling!"--and she remedied the fault on tiptoe,--"please run away and make love to somebody else, and be sure to get her name right, so that I shan't assassinate the wrong person,--because I want to tell this very attractive child all about Avis, and not be bothered." And subsequently she did.
But I must not forestall her confidences, lest I get my cart even further in advance of my nominal Pegasus than the loosely-made conveyance is at present lumbering.
