MRS. G. That means she was older than you. I shouldn't like her to
have been younger. Well?
CAPT. G. Well, I fancied myself in love and raved about a bit, and--oh,
yes, by Jove! I made up poetry. Ha! Ha!
MRS. G. You never wrote any for _me!_ What happened?
CAPT. G. I came out here, and the whole thing went _phut._ She wrote
to say that there had been a mistake, and then she married.
MRS. G. Did she care for you much?
CAPT. G. No. At least she didn't show it as far as I remember.
MRS. G. As far as you remember! Do you remember her name? (_Hears it
and bows her head._) Thank you, my husband.
CAPT. G. Who but you had the right? Now, Little Featherweight, have
you ever been mixed up in any dark and dismal tragedy?
MRS. G. If you call me Mrs. Gadsby, p'raps I'll tell.
CAPT. G. (_Throwing Parade rasp into his voice._) Mrs. Gadsby, confess!
MRS. G. Good Heavens, Phil! I never knew that you could speak in that
terrible voice.
CAPT. G. You don't know half my accomplishments yet. Wait till we are
settled in the Plains, and I'll show you how I bark at my troop. You
were going to say, darling?
MRS.
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