"Do you suppose that I could manage to have her for dinner?" Jack asked,
feeling desperately how dull any other place at the table would be now.

"I don’t know. When I go down to my mother I’ll try to manage it; shall
I?"

"I wish you would."

"I reckon I can; but, great loads of fire, fellow! don’t think you can
play tag with her, and feel funny at the finish. She’ll do you up
completely, and never turn a hair herself. She’s always at it. She don’t
mean to be cruel, but she’s naturally a carnivorous animal. It’s her
little way."

Jack did not look as dismal as he should have done; he smiled, and looked
out of the window instead.

"She’ll have to marry someone some day, you know," he said thoughtfully.

"Have to marry someone some day!" Burnett cried. "Why, she is married.
Didn’t you know that?" and he unbuckled the shirt portfolio as he spoke
just as if calamities and tragedies and shooting stars might not follow on
the heels of such a simple statement as that last.

It was an awful moment, but poor Jack did manage to continue looking out
of the window. If any greater demand had been made upon him he might have
sunk beneath the double weight.

"No," he said at last, his voice painfully steady; "I didn’t know it."