And then think of her
health. She has never quite recovered from that attack of bronchitis.
She has never looked the same woman since. Think of your feelings if
anything happened to her. Nothing would bring her back to you if once
she went."
"Went where?" inquired Mr. Stobell, who was not attending very much.
"If she died, I mean," said Mrs. Chalk, shortly.
"We've all got to die some day," said the philosophic Mr. Stobell.
"She's forty-six."
Mrs. Stobell interposed. "Not till September, Robert," she said, almost
firmly.
"It wouldn't be nice to be buried at sea," remarked Mr. Chalk,
contributing his mite to the discussion. "Of course, it's very
impressive; but to be left down there all alone while the ship sails on
must be very hard."
[Illustration: "It wouldn't be nice to be buried at sea," remarked Mr.
Chalk.]
Mrs. Stobell's eyes began to get large. "I'm feeling quite well," she
gasped.
"Yes, dear," said Mrs. Chalk, with a threatening glance at her husband.
"Of course, we know that. But a voyage would do you good. You can't
deny that."
Mrs. Stobell, fumbling for her handkerchief, said in a tremulous voice
that she had no wish to deny it.
Pages:
143
144
145
146
147
148
149
150
151
152
153
154
155
156
157
158
159
160
161
162
163
164
165
166
167