"I must say that our friend
was not as discreet as she might have been. Nothing wrong--that is,
criminal--of course. But the truth is, she is too fond of
admiration, and encourages the attentions of young men a great deal
more than is discreet for any married woman."
"There was an actual rencontre between Mr. Dewey and a person he
thought too familiar with his wife?" said I.
"Oh, yes. Why, it was in the newspapers!"
"How was it made up between the parties?"
"It isn't made up at all, I believe; There's been some talk of a
duel."
"A sad affair," said I. "How could Mrs. Dewey have been so
thoughtless?"
"She isn't prudent, by any means," answered this intimate friend. "I
often look at the way she conducts herself at public places, and
wonder at her folly."
"Folly, indeed, if her conduct strikes at the root of domestic
happiness."
The lady shook her head in a quiet, meaning way.
I waited for her to put her thoughts into words, which she did in a
few moments after this fashion:
"There's not much domestic happiness to spoil, Doctor, so far as I
can see.
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