be informed that you are a Benedict?" I enquired scornfully.
He reddened and made no reply. I glanced carelessly through the half column of silly gush, learned that I had made a very interesting bride, and noticed some very flattering allusions to my husband. "After the reception," I read aloud, "the bride and bridegroom left for Kew, where they will spend the honeymoon in their handsome home, Tavistock Villa." "They might have added," I said, laying down the paper and trying to speak indifferently, "that the bridegroom returned to London early in the evening, and was back in Kew again in time for breakfast."
I leaned forward in my chair to enjoy the effect of my sarcasm.
"Don't be foolish, Elsie," said my husband, from behind his newspaper, "I told you I was obliged to go up to London, and I know you are too sensible a little woman to stand in my way in a case like that."
"Stand in your way!" My cheeks were the color of peonies. I was horribly indignant.
