wasn't meant fer you? Listen. When Miss Marryun goes on wringin' 'er
'ands an' sobbin', "I love my Willyum," missus ses, "But 'ow can you
love such a big ugly brute of a man wot's allus throwin' 'is tobacco
ash about the place, and scrapin' the fendy with 'is feet and never
wears a fancy westcoat even at evernin' parties. 'Ow can you love
him?" she arsks.

'"I don't know myself," ses Miss Marryun, "but there it is. I'd rather
die than live without my Willyum."'

'Silence,' I burst out fiercely, 'do you think I don't know that all
this is pure invention on your part--for what reason I, as yet, cannot
tell. How dare you concoct such tales?'

'Wait till I've finished, please, sir. The missus, she ses, "But
Marryun, my pore dear, it's no use lovin' 'im. 'E ses to me 'is very
self the other day, 'e ses, 'Sooner than get married I'd go and dwell
in the wilderness, I'd go to Tibbet, be an 'ermit in a cave, give up
baccy, and give away every farthin' I 'ad in the world.'"'

A feeling of acute horror swept over me. With a crash my favourite
pipe fell from my nerveless fingers and was smashed to atoms on the
fender. There was truth in the girl's fantastic story after all. I
recalled using such expressions as those when, a little time before, I
was discussing conjugal difficulties in a talk with Mrs. Warrington.
Obviously the girl could not have made the thing up. I passed my hand
wildly across my brow. 'But what have I done that she should fall in
love with me? What is there about me to attract any woman?'

'Nothink, as I can see,' she retorted, 'but with a woman's heart