one. And, rather to my surprise, I
heard Mr. Germaine put his curious question again to the new guest:

"Where is your wife?"

The answer--with slight variations--was Mr. A's neat little apology,
repeated by Mr. B.

"I am very sorry. Mrs. B has got a bad headache. She is subject to bad
headaches. She begs me to make her excuses."

Mr. and Mrs. Germaine glanced at one another. The husband's face plainly
expressed the suspicion which this second apology had roused in his
mind. The wife was steady and calm. An interval passed--a silent
interval. Mr. A and Mr. B retired together guiltily into a corner. My
wife and I looked at the pictures.

Mrs. Germaine was the first to relieve us from our own intolerable
silence. Two more guests, it appeared, were still wanting to complete
the party. "Shall we have dinner at once, George?" she said to her
husband. "Or shall we wait for Mr. and Mrs. C?"

"We will wait five minutes," he answered, shortly--with his eye on Mr. A
and Mr. B, guiltily secluded in their corner.

The drawing-room door opened. We all knew that a third married lady was
expected; we all looked toward the door in unutterable anticipation. Our
unexpressed hopes rested silently on the possible appearance of Mrs. C.
Would that admirable, but unknown, woman, at once charm and relieve
us by her presence? I shudder as I write it. Mr. C walked into the
room--and walked in, _alone_.

Mr. Germaine suddenly varied his formal inquiry in receiving the new
guest.

"Is your wife ill?" he asked.

Mr. C was an elderly man; Mr. C had lived (judging by appearances) in
the days when the old-fashioned laws of politeness were still in force.
He discovered his two married brethren in their corner, unaccompanied by
_their_ wives; and he delivered his apology for _his_ wife with the air
of a man who felt unaffectedly ashamed of it:

"Mrs. C is so sorry. She has got such a bad cold. She does so regret not
being able to accompany me."

At this third apology, Mr. Germaine's indignation forced its way outward
into expression in words.

"Two bad colds and one bad headache," he said, with ironical politeness.
"I don't know how your wives agree, gentlemen, when they are well. But
when they are ill, their unanimity is wonderful!"

The dinner was announced as that sharp saying passed his lips.

I had the honor of taking Mrs. Germaine to the dining-room. Her sense of
the implied insult offered to her by the wives of her husband's fr