for you, and you have been living in it since the early
afternoon, you remember a thing like that. But all my recollections of
Cecilia are painful, and it is needless to pursue them.

Our coach-load was a homely party, and some of the jokes were
broad--harmless enough in themselves, had Minnie and I really been
the married couple we were supposed to be, but even in that case
unnecessary. I can only hope that Minnie did not understand them.
Anyhow, she looked as if she didn't.

I forget where we stopped for lunch, but I remember that lamb and mint
sauce was on the table, and that the circumstance afforded the greatest
delight to all the party, with the exception of the stout lady, who was
still indignant, Minnie and myself. About my behaviour as a bridegroom
opinion appeared to be divided. "He's a bit standoffish with her,"
I overheard one lady remark to her husband; "I like to see 'em a bit
kittenish myself." A young waitress, on the other hand, I am happy to
say, showed more sense of natural reserve. "Well, I respect him for it,"
she was saying to the barmaid, as we passed through the hall; "I'd just
hate to be fuzzled over with everybody looking on." Nobody took the
trouble to drop their voices for our benefit. We might have been a pair
of prize love birds on exhibition, the way we were openly discussed. By
the majority we were clearly regarded as a sulky young couple who would
not go through their tricks.

I have often wondered since how a real married couple would have faced
the situation. Possibly, had we consented to give a short display of
marital affection, "by desire," we might have been left in peace for the
remainder of the journey.

Our reputation preceded us on to the steamboat. Minnie begged and prayed
me to let it be known we were not married. How I was to let it be known,
except by requesting the captain to summon the whole ship's company on
deck, and then making them a short speech, I could not think. Minnie
said she could not bear it any longer, and retired to the ladies' cabin.
She went off crying. Her trouble was attributed by crew and passengers
to my coldness. One fool planted himself opposite me with his legs
apart, and shook his head at me.

"Go down and comfort her," he began. "Take an old man's advice. Put your
arms around her." (He was one of those sentimental idiots.) "Tell her
that you love her."

I told him to go and hang himself, with so much vigour that he all but
fell overboard. H