refrain from laughing. The whole thing was so characteristic of Mr. Romaine. Ethel felt like flinging the pen in his face, but she was obliged to sign her name, biting her lips as she did so, with vexation. Chessingham's signature followed. Then both of them went out, leaving Mr. Romaine apparently in a very jovial humor.
As soon as they reached their own sitting-room, where Mrs. Chessingham was waiting, devoured with curiosity, Ethel dissolved into tears of anger and disappointment.
"He has made a fool of me," she sobbed, to Chessingham's attempted consolation.
"Who is it that Mr. Romaine can't make a fool of, when he tries?" asked Chessingham, grimly.
"I think," said Mrs. Chessingham, who had much sound sense, "Mr. Romaine acts the fool himself. He has a plenty of money, fairly good health in spite of his imagination to the contrary, and a great deal to make him happy. Instead of that, he is about as dissatisfied an old creature as I ever knew."
"Right," answered Chessingham, "and, Ethel, I am not at all sure that you have n't made a lucky miss."
