"Oh, that's his present young woman—wife did you say? Has he married again?"
"I don't know."
"She's pretty, isn't she."
"Yes—nothing to complain of; or jump at. Not much to depend on, though; a slim, fidgety little thing like that."
"He's a nice-looking chap, too. You ought to ha' stuck to un, Arabella."
"I don't know but I ought," murmured she.
Anny laughed. "That's you, Arabella. Always wanting another man than your own."
"Well, and what woman don't, I should like to know? As for that body with him—she don't know what love is—at least what I call love! I can see in her face she don't."
"And perhaps. Abby dear, you don't know what she calls love."
"I'm sure I don't wish to!... Ah—they are making for the Art Department. I should like to see some pictures myself. Suppose we go that way? Why, if all Wessex isn't here, I verily believe! There's Dr. Vilbert. Haven't seen him for years, and he's not looking a day older than when I used to know him. How do you do, Physician? I was just saying that you don't look a day older than when you knew me as a girl."
"Simply the result of taking my own pills regular, ma'am. Only two and threepence a box—warranted efficacious by the Government stamp. Now let me advise you to purchase the same immunity from the ravages of Time by following my example? Only two-and-three."
The physician had produced a box from his waistcoat pocket, and Arabella was induced to make the purchase.
"At the same time," continued be, when the pills were paid for, "you have the advantage of me, Mrs.— Surely
