It should have happened then, if ever. I was standin' by, waitin' for
him to cut loose with the cruel words, and maybe introduce a little
hair-draggin' scene. But Nick Talbot just stands there gazin' after
her kind of sad and mushy, not even grindin' his teeth. Next he sighs,
drops his chin, and slumps into a chair. Honest, that got me; for it
was real woe showin' on his face, and he seems to be strugglin' with it
man fashion. Somehow it seemed up to me to come across with a few
soothin' remarks.

"Sorry I butted in," says I; "but Mr. Robert sent me up with the
flowers."

"Oh, that's all right," says he. "Glad you came. I--I suppose she
needed someone else to--to talk to."

"But you wouldn't stand for invite the leftovers on your honeymoon,
eh?" I suggests.

"No, hang it all!" says he. "That was too much. She--she mentioned
it, did she?"

"Just casual," says I. "I take it things ain't been goin' smooth
gen'rally?"

He nods gloomy. "You were bound to notice it," says he. "Anyone
would. I haven't been able to humor all her whims. Of course, she's
been used to having so much going on around her that this must seem
rather tame; but I thought, you know, that when we were married--well,
she doesn't seem to realize. And I've offered to take her