who hadn't any chance of turning out to be the crown-prince of Kenosha
in disguise! At the very least, to suit HER he'd have had to wear a
'well-trimmed Vandyke' and coo sonnets in the gloaming, or read On a
Balcony to her by a red lamp.

"Poor David! Outside of his law-books, I don't believe he's ever read
anything but Robinson Crusoe and the Bible and Mark Twain. Oh, you
should have heard her talk about it!--'I couldn't bear it another day,'
she said, 'I couldn't STAND it! In all the time I've known him I don't
believe he's ever asked me a single question--except when he asked if
I'd marry him. He never says ANYTHING--never speaks at ALL!' she said.
'You don't know a blessing when you see it,' I told her. 'Blessing!' she
said. 'There's nothing IN the man! He has no DEPTHS! He hasn't any more
imagination than the chair he sits and sits and sits in! Half the time
he answers what I say to him by nodding and saying 'um-hum,' with that
same old foolish, contented smile of his. I'd have gone MAD if it had
lasted any longer!' I asked her if she thought married life consisted
very largely of conversations between husband and wife; and she answered
that even married life ought to have some POETRY in it. 'Some romance,'
she said, 'some soul! And he just comes and sits,' she said, 'and sits
and sits and sits and sits! And I can't bear it any longer, and I've
told him so.'"

"Poor Mr. Beasley," I said.

"_I_ think, 'Poor Ann Apperthwaite!'" retorted my cousin. "I'd like to
know if there's anything NICER than just to sit and sit and sit and sit
with as lovely a man as that--a man who understands things, and thinks
and listens and smiles--instead of everlastingly talking!"