alone I'm hopeless. How on earth do you suppose that I can get a young man out of the hands of the Rye press gang? They're the most desperate of ruffians. The most desperate set of good-for-noughts that you could possibly wish to meet."
The handle of the door turned suddenly, but Imogene's foot was not easily shifted.
"There's something in the way of the door, you clumsy clodhopper!" called the voice of Mrs. Whyllie from outside.
"I know there is, my love," faltered the husband, and then to Imogene he said: "Oh, please let her come in. She will be quiet, I'm sure." Then in a louder tone: "You will be quiet, won't you, my love?"
"Antony," called the voice of the spouse, "are you addressing yourself to that handsome girl? Are you calling her your love?" Then in a tone of doom: "Wait till I get in!"
"Oh, dear, oh, dear, she's misunderstanding me again. Don't let her come in now, for heaven's sake!" But Imogene had already opened the door and in had burst the little lady, and without heeding Imogene she rushed across the room and administered with her mittened hand a very resounding and sound box upon her husband's ear.
"Now perhaps you will behave yourself like a respectable married man, like an old fogey that you are, like everything in fact that you ought to be, but aren't
