Who she was I did not know; but I soon learned, for
one of the two young women in front of me said a low something to which
the other gave back a swift retort, woefully audible: "
His wife?
That little dowdy thing in brown? Oh, what a pity! Such an ordinary
woman!"
My cheeks grew hot in sympathy with the painful red that swept to the
roots of the thin gray hair under the tip-tilted bonnet. Then I glanced
at the man.
Had he heard? I was not quite sure. His chin, I fancied, was a trifle
higher. I could not see his eyes, but I did see his right hand; and it
was clenched so tightly that the knuckles were white with the strain. I
thought I knew then. He had heard. The next minute he had passed on up
the aisle and the usher was seating the more-frightened-than-ever little
wife in the roped-off section reserved for important guests.
It was then that I became aware that the man on my right was saying
something.
"I beg your pardon, but-did you speak--to me?" I asked, turning to him
hesitatingly.
The old man met my eyes with an abashed smile.
"I guess I'm the party what had ought to be askin' pardon, stranger," he
apologized. "I talk to myself so much I kinder furgit sometimes, and do
it when folks is round.
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