Patten, "To think of him locked in
there alone, and no Clothes or anything. It's too funny for
words."
"You're not married to him."
My heart stopped beating. Was _she_ married to him? She was
indeed. My dream was over. And the worst part of it was that for
a married man I had done without Food or exercise and now stood
in a hot closet in danger of a terrable fuss.
"No, thank Heaven!" said Mrs. Patten. "But it was the only
way to make him work. He is a lazy dog. But don't worry. We'll
feed him before he sees you. He's always rather tractible after
he's fed."
Were _all_ my dreams to go? Would they leave nothing to my
shattered ilusions? Alas, no.
"Jolly him a little, to," said----can I write it?--Mrs.
Beecher. "Tell him he's the greatest thing in the World. That
will help some. He's vain, you know, awfully vain. I expect he's
written a lot of piffle."
Had they listened they would have heard a low, dry sob,
wrung from my tortured heart. But Mrs. Beecher had started a
vibrater, and my anguished cry was lost.
"Well," said Mrs. Patten, "Will has gone down to let him
out, I expect he'll attack him.
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