ce wanted to go to Fordingbridge, I
cut the proposal short--absolutely short, with a curt no. It fixed her
and it frightened her. I was even backed up by all the doctors. I seemed
to have had endless interviews with doctor after doctor, cool, quiet
men, who would ask, in reasonable tones, whether there was any reason
for our going to England--any special reason. And since I could not see
any special reason, they would give the verdict: "Better not, then." I
daresay they were honest enough, as things go. They probably imagined
that the mere associations of the steamer might have effects on
Florence's nerves. That would be enough, that and a conscientious desire
to keep our money on the Continent.

It must have rattled poor Florence pretty considerably, for you see, the
main idea--the only main idea of her heart, that was otherwise cold--was
to get to Fordingbridge and be a county lady in the home of her
ancestors. But Jimmy got her, there: he shut on her the door of the
Channel; even on the fairest day of blue sky, with the cliffs of England
shining like mother of pearl in full view of Calais, I would not have
let her cross the steamer gangway to save her life. I tell you it fixed
her.

It fixed her beautifully, because she could not announce herself
as cured, since that would have put an end to the locked bedroom
arrangements. And, by the time she was sick of Jimmy--which happened in
the year 1903--she had taken on Edward Ashburnham. Yes, it was a bad
fix for her, because Edward could have taken her to Fordingbridge, and,
though he could not give her Branshaw Manor, that home of her ancestors
being settled on his wife, she could at least have pretty considerably
queened it there or thereabouts, what with our money and the support of
the Ashburnhams. Her uncle, as soon as he considered that she had really
settled down with me--and I sent him only the most glowing accounts of
her virtue and constancy--made over to her a very considerable part of
his fortune for which he had no use. I suppose that we had, between us,
fifteen thousand a year in English money, though I never quite knew
how much of hers went to Jimmy. At any rate, we could have shone in
Fordingbridge. I never quite knew, either, how she and Edward got rid
of Jimmy. I fancy that fat and disreputable raven must have had his six
golden front teeth knocked down his throat by Edward one morning whilst
I had gone out to buy some flowers in the Rue de la Paix, leav