"
Arthur looked curiously at his companion. Mr. Winterham was loved of
his friends as the best of good fellows, but to the staid and rising
politician he was not a person for serious talk. Hence, when he found
him saying very plainly what had for long been a suspicion of his own,
he was willing to credit him with a new acuteness.
"You know I've always backed Lewie to romp home some day," went on the
young man. "He has got it in him to do most things, if he doesn't jib
and bolt altogether."
"I don't see why you should talk of your friends as if they were
racehorses or prize dogs."
"Well, there's a lot of truth in the metaphor. You know yourself what a
mess of it he might make. Say some good woman got hold of him--some
good woman, for we will put aside the horrible suggestion of the
adventuress. I suppose he'd be what you call a 'good husband.' He would
become a magistrate and a patron of local agricultural societies and
flower shows. And eveybody would talk about him as a great success in
life; but we--you and I and Tommy--who know him better, would feel that
it was all a ghastly failure."
Mr. Lewis Haystoun's character erred in its simplicity, for it was at
the mercy of every friend for comment.
"What makes you dread the women so?" asked Arthur with a smile.
"I don't dread 'em. They are all that's good, and a great deal better
than most men.
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