He started out of bed,
and looked around for his clothes.
"Nice place, the country," pursued the Honourable Frederic
thoughtfully; "fresh eggs, and grass to clean your pipe with--but apt
to be dull. Now, a pleasant little society; cards, billiards, and
social _reunions_--select, of course--"
"Of course. Do you happen to be sitting on my trousers?"
"Eh? No, I believe--no. Let me see--limited loo and a modest pool
of an evening. Hullo! what's the matter?"
The Admiral had rushed to the door.
"Emily!" he bawled down the stairs.
"Well, I'll be going. Can't find your trousers? Admiral, it's the
last straw. But we'll be revenged, Admiral. We'll found a Club;
and, by George, sir, we'll call it 'The Inexpressibles'! Ta-ta for
the present," and Mr. Goodwyn-Sandys retired.
But what was being discussed below when the Admiral's voice disturbed
his wife? Alas! you shall hear.
"These men," Mrs. Goodwyn-Sandys was saying, "are all alike. But, my
dear, why not disregard his absurd humours? I have revolted from
Frederic long ago."
"You don't say so!"
"It is a fact. Take my advice and do the same. It needs courage at
first, but they are all cowards--oh, such cowards, my dear!
Revolt. Cry 'Havoc!' and let slip--"
"My dear, I should faint.
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