THE LADY OF THE BARGE

AND OTHER STORIES

By W. W. Jacobs




THE WELL


Two men stood in the billiard-room of an old country house, talking.
Play, which had been of a half-hearted nature, was over, and they sat at
the open window, looking out over the park stretching away beneath them,
conversing idly.

"Your time's nearly up, Jem," said one at length, "this time six weeks
you'll be yawning out the honeymoon and cursing the man--woman I mean--
who invented them."

Jem Benson stretched his long limbs in the chair and grunted in dissent.

"I've never understood it," continued Wilfred Carr, yawning. "It's not
in my line at all; I never had enough money for my own wants, let alone
for two. Perhaps if I were as rich as you or Croesus I might regard it
differently."

There was just sufficient meaning in the latter part of the remark for
his cousin to forbear to reply to it. He continued to gaze out of the