‘To be sure you will,’ said the utilitarian; ‘what made you do such a silly thing? Why, your letter is in this coach.’
‘Well! I shouldn’t wonder. I shall be there before my letter now. All nonsense, letters: my wife wrote it at Falmouth.’
‘You are married, then?’ said the widow.
‘Ayn’t I, though? The sweetest cretur, madam, though I say it before you, that ever lived.’
‘Why did you not bring your wife with you?’ asked the widow.
‘And wouldn’t I be very glad to? but she wouldn’t come among strangers at once; and so I have got a letter, which she wrote for me, to put in the post, in case they are glad to see me, and then she will come on.’
‘And you, I suppose, are not sorry to have a holiday?’ said the Duke.
‘Ayn’t I, though? Ayn’t I as low about leaving her as ever I was in my life;
