He had tried to forget the horrible pictures of battle and
slaughter, of machine-guns and hand-grenades and torpedoes and
poison gas, with which little Jennie had filled his imagination; but
now these imaginings came crowding back upon him, now for the first
time they concerned him. From that time on his honeymoon was
spoiled. Peter and his grass widow were like a party of picnickers
who are far away in the wilderness, and see a black thunder-storm
come rolling up the sky!
Also, Peter's bank account was running low. Peter had had no
conception how much money you could spend on a grass widow who is a
"swell dresser" and understands what is "proper." He was overwhelmed
with embarrassment; he put off telling Mrs. James until the last
moment--in fact, until he wasn't quite sure whether he had enough
money in bank to meet the last check he had given to the landlady.
Then, realizing that the game was up, he told.
He was surprised to see how charmingly a grass widow of "good
breeding" could take bad tidings. Evidently it wasn't the first time
that Mrs. James had been to the beach. She smiled cheerfully, and
said that it was the jury-box for her once more. She gave Peter her
card, and told him she would be glad to have him call upon her
again--when he had restored his fortunes.
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