"Wedding bells, O' Man. Benedictine collapse."

On the whole Johnson showed great self-control. "It's your own affair,
O' Man," he said, when things had been more clearly explained, "and I
hope you won't feel sorry when it's too late."

But Mrs. Johnson was first of all angrily silent, and then
reproachful. "I don't see what we've done to be made fools of like
this," she said. "After all the trouble we've 'ad to make you
comfortable and see after you. Out late and sitting up and everything.
And then you go off as sly as sly without a word, and get a shop
behind our backs as though you thought we meant to steal your money. I
'aven't patience with such deceitfulness, and I didn't think it of
you, Elfrid. And now the letting season's 'arf gone by, and what I
shall do with that room of yours I've no idea. Frank is frank, and
fair play fair play; so _I_ was told any'ow when I was a girl. Just as
long as it suits you to stay 'ere you stay 'ere, and then it's off and
no thank you whether we like it or not. Johnson's too easy with you.
'E sits there and doesn't say a word, and night after night 'e's been
addin' and thinkin' for you, instead of seeing to his own affairs--"

She paused for breath.

"Unfortunate amoor," said Mr. Polly, apologetically and indistinctly.
"Didn't expect it myself."


IV

Mr. Polly's marriage followed with a certain inevitableness.