We'd been married a
month or so, and you weren't quite sure whether you liked me or not.
Do you remember?"
"I remember that first summer," said he. "It's the only part of
those seven years that I do want to remember. But the chickenpox
part of it had escaped me."
"Well, of course," his wife admitted, "in those days children's
diseases were nothing whatever in our lives. But when Johnny Hewitt
refers to it as that wonderful summer seven years ago, I have
discovered that he means it was wonderful because he saved
forty-three out of forty-three cases, not because you and I had
married each other to please your mother, and were finding out that
it was rather nice."
"I'll be hanged if I know to this day what possible niceness there
was for you in being married to a man everybody thought would never
get well," said Allan.
"He was you," explained Phyllis matter-of-factly, sitting down on a
step to look at him better. "Anybody'd fall in love with you, Allan.
You know perfectly well that it even happens now."
"Certainly," said he scornfully. "My well-known beauty and charm
attract all classes; they besiege my path by day and night. By Jove,
Phyllis, there's one now, the flapper I saw in the dining-room
lately. She's doubtless come over to say that she'll wait for me
till you're through, being young. She's pretty, too."
Phyllis laughed, and patted his foot, the only part of him she could
reach without getting up.
Pages:
31
32
33
34
35
36
37
38
39
40
41
42
43
44
45
46
47
48
49
50
51
52
53
54
55