"
Mr. Culpepper nodded and went on eating in silence until, the keen edge
of his appetite having been taken off, he put down his knife and fork and
waxed sentimental.
"Been married over thirty years," he said, slowly, with a glance at his
wife, "and never regretted it."
"Who hasn't?" inquired Mr. Sharp.
"Why, me," returned the surprised Mr. Culpepper.
Mr. Sharp, who had just raised his glass, put it down again and smiled.
It was a faint smile, but it seemed to affect his host unfavourably.
"What are you smiling at?" he demanded.
"Thoughts," said Mr. Sharp, exchanging a covert glance with Florrie.
"Something you told me the other day."
Mr. Culpepper looked bewildered. "I'll give you a penny for them
thoughts," he said, with an air of jocosity.
Mr. Sharp shook his head. "Money couldn't buy 'em," he said, with owlish
solemnity, "espec--especially after the good supper you're giving me."
"Bert," said Mr. Culpepper, uneasily, as his wife sat somewhat erect
"Bert, it's my birthday, and I don't grudge nothing to nobody; but go
easy with the beer. You ain't used to it, you know."
"What's the matter with the beer?" inquired Mr. Sharp. "It tastes all
right--what there is of it."
"It ain't the beer; it's you," explained Mr.
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