"I still say that Hugh enjoyed his walk," he repeated; "I trust he will
have others of the same kind--with the same person."
"Henry, you are really incorrigible!" cried his wife. "How can you make
jokes--on such a thing--with that girl's face before you!"
"Not at all," said the doctor, protesting. "I am not making jokes,
Patricia. But what you women never will understand is, that it was not a
woman but a man that wrote--
"'If she be not fair for me--
What care I--'"
"Henry!" and his wife, beside herself, tried to stop his mouth with her
hand.
"All right, I won't finish," said the doctor, placidly, disengaging
himself. "But let me assure you, Patricia, whether you like it or not,
that that is a male sentiment. I quite agree that no nice woman could
have written it. But, then, Hugh is not a nice woman--nor am I."
"I thought you were so fond of her!" said his wife, reproachfully.
"Miss Mallory? I adore her. But, to tell the truth, Patricia, I want a
daughter-in-law--and--and grand-children," added the doctor,
deliberately, stretching out his long limbs to the fire. "I admit that
my remarks may be quite irrelevant and ridiculous--but I repeat that--in
spite of everything--Hugh enjoyed his walk.
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