his last remark had ceased to shake the window. I was left to
entertain Mrs. Ukridge.

So far her share in the conversation had been confined to the pleasant
smile which was apparently her chief form of expression. Nobody talked
very much when Ukridge was present. She sat on the edge of the
armchair, looking very small and quiet. I was conscious of feeling a
benevolent pity for her. If I had been a girl, I would have preferred
to marry a volcano. A little of Ukridge, as his former head master had
once said in a moody, reflective voice, went a very long way. "You and
Stanley have known each other a long time, haven't you?" said the
object of my commiseration, breaking the silence.

"Yes. Oh, yes. Several years. We were masters at the same school."

Mrs. Ukridge leaned forward with round, shining eyes.

"Really? Oh, how nice!" she said ecstatically.

Not yet, to judge from her expression and the tone of her voice, had
she found any disadvantages attached to the arduous position of being
Mrs. Stanley Ukridge.

"He's a wonderfully versatile man," I said.

"I believe he could do anything."

"He'd have a jolly good try!"

"Have you ever kept fowls?" asked Mrs. Ukridge, with apparent