Page:The Strand Magazine (Volume 4).djvu/161

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"THERE'S MANY A SLIP."
161

"And the plans were never carried out?" I asked, after I had waited a moment to see if he would say more. "Well, I suppose I know when they were made, but I never did quite understand why they came to nothing."

"No," he answered. "I don't think anybody knew but ourselves. It was my fault—certainly, it was all my fault."

He stopped, but I thought he was not disinclined to go on, and I was curious. Indeed, there had been an episode in John's life about which we had all been curious; and, though it was a good while past, I still felt I should like to know. So I said,

"I fancied it had been Miss Woodroffe's doing?"

"I said it was my fault," he answered. "I did not say it was my doing."

"Oh!" I answered rather blankly, and there was a silence. Then John gave a little laugh, half ridicule of himself, I thought, and half ruefulness for the story that was in his mind.

"I may as well tell you all about it," he said. "You are not likely to tell it to any of the young ones, and it certainly was an odd way of losing one's promised wife. You'll see that she was not to blame."

I saw now that I was in for the story, whatever it might be, the catastrophe of which had left John a bachelor; so I settled myself in my chair, put my feet more comfortably my footstool, and laid down the nutcrackers.

"Well," he said, "I daresay you remember that I have always been much fonder of seeing my friends in my own house than of going elsewhere for society. I don't suppose I've dined out ten times in the last ten years; and ten years ago I disliked doing it almost as much as I do now. Only I wasn't quite such an old fogey, and I believe I had some vague idea of marrying. The difficulty was that I had never seen exactly the right woman, and very naturally I wasn't nearly about finding her as I had been twenty years before that. It is just ten years now since I met Miss Woodroffe."


"Miss Woodroffe."

"Yes," I said, "I remember it is about ten years since I heard of her."

"The only house where I ever cared to dine in those days was Joddrell's, and I used to go there about once for every four times they asked me. One evening in September I went there much against my will. Joddrell had promised me that I should meet some old friends, but when I arrived there was not one present but strangers, and nearly all the party were young people. Fancy asking me to meet a roomful of young people! It wasn't until dinner was announced that I saw the lady I was to take in; then Joddrell led me into a corner of the drawing-room, and introduced me to Miss Woodroffe, a friend of his wife's."

John stopped a little here, and I fancied