It was now Mrs. Chalk's turn to appear surprised, and she did it so well
that Mr. Chalk choked in his tea-cup. "About the yachting trip," she
said, with a glance at her husband that made his choking take on a
ventriloquial effect of distance.

"He--he didn't say anything to me about it," said Mrs. Stobell, timidly.

She glanced at her husband, but Mr. Stobell, taking an enormous bite out
of a slice of bread and butter, made no sign.

"It'll do you a world of good," said Mrs. Chalk, affectionately. "It'll
put a little colour in your cheeks."

Mrs. Stobell flushed. She was a faded little woman; faded eyes, faded
hair, faded cheeks. It was even whispered that her love for Mr. Stobell
was beginning to fade.

"And I don't suppose you'll mind the seasickness after you get used to
it," said the considerate Mr. Chalk, "and the storms, and the cyclones,
and fogs, and collisions, and all that sort of thing."

"If you can stand it, she can," said his wife, angrily.

"But I don't understand," said Mrs. Stobell, appealingly. "What yachting
trip?"

Mrs. Chalk began to explain; Mr. Stobell helped himself to another slice,
and, except for a single glance under his heavy brows at Mr. Chalk,
appeared to be oblivious of his surroundings.