"You mark my words," she said, "he'll murder them both in their sleep." Concerning Zora, too, she was emphatic. "I am not one of those who think every woman ought to get married; but if she can't conduct herself decently without a husband, she ought to have one." "But surely Mrs. Middlemist's conduct is irreproachable," said Sypher. "Irreproachable? Do you think trapesing about alone all over the earth--mixing with all sorts of people she doesn't know from Adam, and going goodness knows where and doing goodness knows what, and idling her life away, never putting a darn in her stockings even--is irreproachable conduct on the part of a young woman of Zora's birth and appearance? The way she dresses must attract attention, wherever she goes. It's supposed to be 'stylish' nowadays. In my time it was immodest. When a young woman was forced to journey alone she made herself as inconspicuous as possible. Zora ought to have a husband to look after her. Then she could do as she liked--or as he liked, which would be much the best thing for her." "I happen to be in Mrs. Middlemist's confidence," said Sypher. "She has told me many times that she would never marry again. Her marriage--" "Stuff and rubbish!" cried Cousin Jane. "You wait until the man comes along who has made up his mind to marry her. It must be a big strong man who won't stand any nonsense and will take her by the shoulders and shake her. She'll marry him fast enough. We'll see what happens to her in California." "I hope she won't marry one of those dreadful creatures with lassos," said Mrs. Oldrieve, whose hazy ideas of California were based on hazier memories of Buffalo Bill's Wild West Show which she had seen many years ago in London. "I hope Mrs. Middlemist won't marry at all," said Sypher, in a tone of alarm. "Why?" asked Cousin Jane. She shot the question at him with almost a snarl. Sypher paused for a moment or two before replying. "I should lose a friend," said he. "Humph!" said Cousin Jane. If the late Rev. Laurence Sterne had known Cousin Jane, "Tristram Shandy" would have been the richer by a chapter on "Humphs." He would have analyzed this particular one with a minute delicacy beyond the powers of Clem Sypher through whose head rang the echo of the irritating vocable for some time afterwards. It meant something. It meant something uncomfortable. It was directly leveled at himself and yet it seemed to sum up her previous disparaging remarks about Zora. "What the dickens _did_ she mean by it?" he asked himself.