"I have one friend in England besides yourself, Miss Ward," he replied.
"His name is Clinton. But he is married and done for."
"My! What a pity!" she exclaimed. "Isn't he happy?"
"Oh, yes, I think so. Still, you know, most fellows have to sacrifice
something when they marry. He was a war-correspondent. But he has spoilt
himself for that."
"I see." Mab was prodding the shingle with the end of her sunshade,
her face very thoughtful. Suddenly she looked up. "Never get married,
Big Bear!" she said vehemently. "It's the most miserable state in
Christendom."
"Anyone would think you spoke from experience," said Merefleet, smiling
a little.
But Mab did not smile.
"I know a lot, Big Bear," she said, with a sharp sigh.
Merefleet was silent. His thoughts had gone back to the previous night.
He was surprised when she suddenly alluded to the episode.
"There's that man Ralph Warrender," she said. "I guess the woman that's
married him thinks he's A1 and gilt-edged now, poor soul. But he's just a
miserable patchwork mummy really, and there isn't any white in him--no,
not a speck."
She spoke with such intense, even violent bitterness that Merefleet was
utterly astonished. He stood gravely contemplating her flushed, upturned
face.
"What has he done to make you say that, I wonder?" he said.
"Nothing to me," she answered quickly. "Nothing at all to me.
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