CHAPTER IX
A LITTLE LUNCH AT DIEUDONNÉ'S
Sore were the ravages of the ancient malady. It
made it worse for the sufferer that he had never had it
before.
He was twenty-eight, a very healthy and normal citizen, "a little slow in the uptake," to be sure, but with private means already, and the heir to the paternal greatness. He should, of course, like other paladins, have tried to keep out of mischief by serving his king and country.
It was a mistake to have left the Second, said his admirable parents. He wanted a wife, said all the world. It was really necessary that a young man of his age should provide himself with this most indispensable accessory.
In his torpid way he rather agreed. But he got no forrarder, although it was perfectly clear that the indispensable accessory was his for the asking.
To be sure, he had never exactly hit it off with Adela. Self-willed and overbearing young women, doubtless, had their reason to be; but he was much too shrewd a young chap to crave to be tied up for life with one of them.
