n' isn't
married 'e's cheatin' some pore girl out of 'er rights, I ses,' she
declared. 'Selfishness! Spendin' all 'is money on 'isself. W'y isn't
'e married?'

'I don't know, Elizabeth,' I replied, 'but if you like, I'll ask him.'

'That'll do no good. 'E orter be thrown together with the right kind
o' young lady and kept up to the scratch. That's wot orter be done.
I'll look up the cards for 'im and see wot 'is Signs is. I'd like to
see 'im married and settled down.'

'Perhaps you mean to marry him yourself, Elizabeth?'

She gave a snort of indignation. 'Me! 'E's not my style. Give me a
young man who can set off a bright necktie an' a white waistcoat with a
nice watch an' albert 'ung on to it. But Mr. Roarings' now, 'e'd do
well for some one who 'ad settled down, like, with quiet sort o'
tastes. I got some one in my mind's eye for 'im already.'

From the moment that Elizabeth took his destiny in hand William was no
longer safe, I felt sure. The Signs began to get to work upon him.

'William,' I said to him one day, 'Elizabeth means to marry you.'

'Why should I marry Elizabeth?' he asked placidly.

'I don't mean that she herself is to be the blushing bride. She
prefers a man with a taste in waistcoats, a flowing auburn moustache,
and a tendency to bright neckties, none of which qualities or
quantities you possess. She means to get you married to some one else.'

William slowly removed his pipe from his mouth and regarded me with
intense earnestness. He is not the sort of person who lets his
emotions ripple to the surface, so his serious mien surprised me. He
raised his hand in a prophetic attitude and began to speak. 'Dr.
Johnson has rightly said that the incommodities of a single life are
necessary and certain, but those of a conjugal state are avoidable.
Excellent philosophy. Sooner than get married, my dear madame, I would
walk in the wilderness, conversing with no man; I would fly to the
fastnesses of Tibet; I would make of myself a hermit in a cave that was
strongly barricaded. I would eschew tobacco. I would pay, to the
uttermost farthing, any bachelor tax imposed by the State.'

'Do you so utterly abhor the idea of marriage?' I asked, profoundly
astonished.

'I do,' said William.

A strange sound broke on our ears. It seemed to come through the
keyhole, and resembled the contemptuous sniff with which Elizabeth
always expresses incredulity. But, of course, it couldn't have been