"Condolences! Why, yesterday you told me congratulations were the
order of the day!" he answered in a tone of good-natured raillery.
"They are so no longer," I answered, gloomily. "My head is simply
splitting too. I can't think where I get these confounded
headaches," I muttered, pushing the hair up off my forehead, and
wishing I could push off some of the oppressing ideas. "Are you
coming with me, Dick?"
He looked at me attentively, and possibly seeing the excitement I
tried to suppress, and the flush it drove to my face, he debated my
sobriety. I think he came to the right conclusion, for the next
moment he said,--
"Yes; I'll come. Just let me get my over coat and tell the
coachman."
I had the same thing to do, and we met a second or two later at the
bottom of the steps, and turned to walk towards my place. As we
walked down the street he slipped his arm in mine and said,--
"You seem frightfully upset. What has happened?"
"That's just what I want to know!" I answered. "If I knew I should
not so much mind, but this is what I hate about women, they never
will speak out nor come to the point. It is the one great fault of
the sex. I despise it utterly. It can do no good, and it is most
annoying and irritating to a person who has a right to confidence."
"My dear fellow," he said, soothingly, "you can't expect your
fiancee, if that's what you mean, to be so uncommonly direct in
speech as you are! You have a way of very much going to the point in
everything, but you won't find it in other people, even throwing
women out of the question.
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