"It was," said I severely, "without a spark of interest from
beginning to end. Such things happen by thousands. It's
commonplaceness itself. I had some hopes when you father assumed
a firm attitude, but--"

"Mother was such a dear," interrupted Mrs. Hilary.

"Just so. She gave away the whole situation. Then I did trust
that Hilary would lose his place, or develop an old flame, or do
something just a little interesting."

"It was a perfect time," said Mrs. Hilary.

"I wonder why in the world you told me about it," I pursued.

"I don't know why I did," said Mrs. Hilary dreamily.

"The only possible excuse for an engagement like that," I
observed, "is to be found in intense post-nuptial unhappiness."

Hilary rose, and advanced towards his wife.

"Your embroidery's falling on the floor," said he.

"Not a bit of it," said I.

"Yes, it is," he persisted; and he picked it up and gave it to
her. Miss Phyllis smiled delightedly. Hilary had squeezed his
wife's hand.