CAPT. G. (Innocently.) Why not?

MRS. G. (Raising her eyes to his.) Because-because I was afraid
of losing you, my heart. But now-tell about it-please.

CAPT. G. There's nothing to tell. I was awf'ly old then-nearly two
and twenty-and she was quite that.

MRS. G. That means she was older than you. I shouldn't like her to
have been younger. Well?

CAPT. G. Well, I fancied myself in love and raved about a bit,
and-oh, yes, by Jove! I made up poetry. Ha! Ha!

MRS. G. You never wrote any for me! What happened?

CAPT. G. I came out here, and the whole thing went phut. She
wrote to say that there had been a mistake, and then she married.

Mas. G. Did she care for you much?

CAPT. G. No. At least she didn't show it as far as I remember.

MRS. G. As far as you rememberl Do you remember her name?
(Hears it and bows her head.) Thank you, my husband.

CAPT. G. Who but you had the right? Now, Little Featherweight,
have you ever been mixed up in any dark and dismal tragedy?

MRS. G. If you call me Mrs. Gadsby, p'raps I'll tell.