o espressione!_"

And again he trilled the imaginary keyboard, and smiled his rather
fat cheeks at Alvina.

She began to like him. There was something a little dainty about
him, when you knew him better--really rather fastidious. A showman,
true enough! Blatant too. But fastidiously so.

He came fairly frequently to Manchester House after this. Miss
Pinnegar was rather stiff with him and he did not like her. But he
was very happy sitting chatting tete-a-tete with Alvina.

"Where is your wife?" said Alvina to him.

"My wife! Oh, don't speak of _her_," he said comically. "She's in
London."

"Why not speak of her?" asked Alvina.

"Oh, every reason for not speaking of her. We don't get on at _all_
well, she and I."

"What a pity," said Alvina.

"Dreadful pity! But what are you to do?" He laughed comically. Then
he became grave. "No," he said. "She's an impossible person."

"I see," said Alvina.

"I'm sure you _don't_ see," said Mr. May. "Don't--" and here he laid
his hand on Alvina's arm--"don't run away with the idea that she's
_immoral_! You'd never make a greater mistake. Oh dear me, no.
Morality's her strongest point. Live on three lettuce leaves, and
give the rest to the char. That's her. Oh, dreadful times we had in
those first years. We only lived together for three years. But dear
_me_! how awful it was!"

"Why?"

"There was no pleasing the woman. She wouldn't eat. If I said to her
'What shall we have for supper, Grace?' as sure as anything she'd
answer 'Oh, I shall take a bath when I go to bed--that will be my
supper.' She was one of these advanced vegetarian women, don't you
know."

"How extraordinary!" said Alvina.

"Extraordinary! I should think so. Extraordinary hard lines on _me_.
And she wouldn't let _me_ eat either. She followed me to the kitchen in
a _fury_ while I cooked for myself. Why imagine! I prepared a dish of
champignons: oh, most _beautiful_ champignons, beautiful--and I put
them on the stove to fry in butter: beautiful young champignons. I'm
hanged if she didn't go into the kitchen while my back was turned, and
pour a pint of old carrot-water into the pan. I was _furious_.
Imagine!--beautiful fresh young champignons--"

"Fresh mushrooms," said Alvina.

"Mushrooms--most beautiful things in the world. Oh! don't you think
so?" And he rolled his eyes oddly to heaven.

"They _are_ good," said Alvina.

"I should say so. And swamped--_swamped_ with her dirty old carrot
water.