The Bertrams

  CHAPTER IX.

  THE TWO WIDOWS.

  The winter was now nearly over, and the travellers had determinedto return to England. Whatever other good purpose the city of Cairomight or might not serve, it had restored Wilkinson to health.Bertram was sufficiently weary of living in a country in which thewomen go about with their faces hidden by long dirty stripes ofcalico, which they call veils, and in which that little which is seenof the ladies by no means creates a wish to see more. And Wilkinson,since the conversation which they had had at the Pyramids, wasanxious to assume his own rights in the vicarage-house at HurstStaple. So they decided on returning about the middle of March; butthey decided also on visiting Suez before doing so.

  In these days men go from Cairo to Suez as they do from London toBirmingham--by railway; in those days--some ten or twelve years back,that is--they went in wooden boxes, and were dragged by mules throughthe desert.

  We cannot stay long at Suez, nor should I carry my reader there, evenfor a day, seeing how triste and dull the place is, had not our heromade an acquaintance there which for some time was likely to have aconsiderable effect on his future life.

  Suez is indeed a triste, unhappy, wretched place. It is a smalloriental town, now much be-Europeanized, and in the process of beingbe-Anglicized. It is not so Beelzebub-ridden a spot as Alexandria,nor falling to pieces like Cairo. But it has neither water, air, norverdure. No trees grow there, no rivers flow there. Men drink brineand eat goats; and the thermometer stands at eighty in the shade inwinter. The oranges are the only luxury. There is a huge hotel, whichcontains long rows of hot cells, and a vast cave in which people eat.The interest of the place consists in Pharoah's passage over theRed Sea; but its future prosperity will be caused by a transit of adifferent nature:--the passage of the English to and from India willturn even Suez into an important town.

  Here the two travellers encountered a flood of Indians on theirreturn home. The boat from Calcutta came in while they were there,and suddenly all the cells were tenanted, and the cave was full ofspoiled children, tawny nurses, pale languid mothers, and dyspepticfathers. These were to be fellow-travellers homewards with Bertramand Wilkinson.

  Neither of our friends regarded with favour the crowd which made themeven more uncomfortable than they had been before. As Englishmen insuch positions generally do, they kept themselves aloof and scowled,frowned at the children who whined in the nearest neighbourhoodto them, and listened in disgust to the continuous chatter aboutpunkahs, tiffins, and bungalows.

  But close to them, at the end of the long table, at the commondinner, sat two ladies, on whom it was almost impossible for them tofrown. For be it known that at these hotels in Egypt, a man cannotorder his dinner when he pleases. He must breakfast at nine, and dineat six, as others do--or go without. And whether he dine, or whetherhe do not, he must pay. The Medes and Persians were lax and pliablein their laws in comparison with these publicans.

  Both George and Arthur would have frowned if they could have doneso; but on these two ladies it was impossible to frown. They wereboth young, and both pretty. George's neighbour was uncommonlypretty--was, indeed, one of the prettiest women that he had everseen;--that any man could see anywhere. She was full of smiles too,and her smile was heavenly;--was full of words, and her words werewitty. She who sat next Arthur was perhaps less attractive; but shehad large soft eyes, which ever and anon she would raise to his face,and then let fall again to her plate in a manner which made sparksfly round the heart even of our somewhat sombre young Hampshirevicar.

  The four were soon in full conversation, apparently much to thedisgust of two military-looking gentlemen who sat on the other sideof the ladies. And it was evident that the military gentlemen and theladies were, or ought to be, on terms of intimacy; for proffers ofsoup, and mutton, and wine were whispered low, and little attempts atconfidential intercourse were made. But the proffers were rejected,and the attempts were in vain. The ladies preferred to have theirplates and glasses filled by the strangers, turned their shoulders ontheir old friends with but scant courtesy, and were quite indifferentto the frowns which at last clouded those two military brows.

  And the brows of Major Biffin and Captain M'Gramm were clouded. Theyhad been filling the plates and glasses of these two ladies all theway from Calcutta; they had walked with them every day on deck, hadfetched their chairs, picked up their handkerchiefs, and looked aftertheir bottled beer at tiffin-time with an assiduity which is morethan commendable in such warm latitudes. And now to be thrown on oneside for two travelling Englishmen, one in a brown coat and the otherin a black one--for two muffs, who had never drunk sangaree or satunder a punkah!

  This was unpleasant to Major Biffin and Captain M'Gramm. But then whyhad the major and the captain boasted of the favours they had dailyreceived, to that soft-looking, superannuated judge, and to theirbilious friend, Dr. O'Shaughnessy? The judge and the doctor had ofcourse their female allies, and had of course repeated to them allthe boasts of the fortunate major and of the fortunate captain. Andwas it not equally of course that these ladies should again repeatthe same to Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Price? For she who was so divinelyperfect was Mrs. Cox, and she of the soft, lustrous eyes was Mrs.Price. Those who think that such a course was not natural know littleof voyages home from Calcutta to Southampton.

  But the major, who had been the admirer of Mrs. Cox, had done morethan this--had done worse, we may say. The world of the good ship"Lahore," which was bringing them all home, had declared ever sincethey had left Point de Galle, that the major and Mrs. Cox wereengaged.

  Now, had the major, in boasting of his favours, boasted also ofhis engagement, no harm perhaps might have come of it. The sweetgood-nature of the widow might have overlooked that offence. But hehad boasted of the favours and pooh-poohed the engagement! "Hinc illaelacrymae." And who shall say that the widow was wrong? And as to theother widow, Mrs. Price, she was tired of Captain M'Gramm. A littlefact had transpired about Captain M'Gramm, namely, that he was goinghome to his wife. And therefore the two ladies, who had conspiredtogether to be civil to the two warriors, now conspired togetherto be uncivil to them. In England such things are done, as it were,behind the scenes: there these little quarrels are managed inprivate. But a passage home from India admits of but little privacy;there is no behind the scenes. The two widows were used to this,and quarrelled with their military admirers in public without anycompunction.

  "Hinc illae lacrymae." But the major was not inclined to shed his tearswithout an effort. He had pooh-poohed the idea of marrying Mrs. Cox;but like many another man in similar circumstances, he was probablywilling enough to enter into such an arrangement now that thefacility of doing so was taken from him. It is possible that Mrs.Cox, when she turned her pretty shoulder on Major Biffin, may herselfhave understood this phasis of human nature.

  The major was a handsome man, with well-brushed hair, well-trimmedwhiskers, a forehead rather low, but very symmetrical, a well-shapednose, and a small, pursy mouth. The worst of his face was that youcould by no means remember it. But he knew himself to be a handsomeman, and he could not understand how he could be laid aside for sougly a lout as this stranger from England. Captain M'Gramm was not ahandsome man, and he was aware that he fought his battle under thedisadvantage of a wife. But he had impudence enough to compensate himfor this double drawback.

  During this first dinner, Arthur Wilkinson was not more than coldlycivil to Mrs. Price; but Bertram became after a while warmly civil toMrs. Cox. It is so very nice to be smiled on by the prettiest womanin the room; and it was long since he had seen the smile of anypretty woman! Indeed, for the last eighteen months he had had butlittle to do with such smiles.

  Before dinner was over, Mrs. Cox had explained to Bertram that bothshe and her friend Mrs. Price were in deep affliction. They hadrecently lost their husbands--the one, by cholera; that was poordear Cox, who had been collector of the Honourable Company's taxesat Panjabee. Whereas, Lieutenant Price, of the 71st Native BengalInfantry, had succumbed t
o--here Mrs. Cox shook her head, andwhispered, and pointed to the champagne-glass which Bertram was inthe act of filling for her. Poor Cox had gone just eight months; butPrice had taken his last glass within six. And so Bertram knew allabout it.

  And then there was a great fuss in packing the travellers into thewooden boxes. It seems that they had all made up their own partiesby sixes, that being the number of which one box was supposed to becapable. But pretty women are capricious, and neither Mrs. Price norMrs. Cox were willing to abide by any such arrangement. When thetime came for handing them in, they both objected to the box pointedout to them by Major Biffin--refused to be lifted in by the armsof Captain M'Gramm--got at last into another vacant box with theassistance of our friends--summoned their dingy nurses and babiesinto the same box (for each was so provided)--and then very prettilymade way for Mr. Bertram and Mr. Wilkinson. And so they went acrossthe desert.

  Then they all stayed a night at Cairo, and then they went on toAlexandria. And by the time that they were embarked in a boattogether, on their way to that gallant first-class steamer, the"Cagliari," they were as intimate as though they had travelled roundthe world together, and had been as long about it as Captain Cook.

  "What will you take with you, Mrs. Cox?" said Bertram, as he stood upin the boat with the baby on one arm, while with the other he handedthe lady towards the ship's ladder.

  "A good ducking," said Mrs. Cox, with a cheery laugh, as at themoment a dashing wave covered them with its spray. "And I've got ittoo, with a vengeance. Ha! ha! Take care of the baby, whatever youdo; and if she falls over, mind you go after her." And with anotherlittle peal of silver ringing laughter, she tripped up the side ofthe ship, and Bertram, with the baby, followed after her.

  "She is such a giddy thing," said Mrs. Price, turning her soft eyeson poor Arthur Wilkinson. "Oh, laws! I know I shall be drowned. Dohold me." And Arthur Wilkinson did hold her, and nearly carried herup into the ship. As he did so, his mind would fly off to AdelaGauntlet; but his arms and legs were not the less at the service ofMrs. Price.

  "And now look after the places," said Mrs. Cox; "you haven't a momentto lose. And look here, Mr. Bertram, mind, I won't sit next to MajorBiffin. And, for heaven's sake, don't let us be near that fellowM'Gramm." And so Bertram descended into the _salon_ to place theircards in the places at which they were to sit for dinner. "Two andtwo; opposite to each other," sang out Mrs. Cox, as he went. Therewas a sweetness in her voice, a low, mellow cheeriness in her tone,which, combined with her beauty, went far to atone for the nature ofwhat she said; and Bertram not unwillingly obeyed her behests.

  "Oh, my blessed baby!" said Mrs. Price, as the nurse handed her thechild--which, however, she immediately handed back. "How can I thankyou enough, Mr. Wilkinson? What should we have done without you? Iwonder whether it's near tiffin. I am so faint."

  "Shall I fetch you anything?" said he.

  "If you could get me a glass of porter. But I don't think they'llgive it you. They are so uncivil!"

  Arthur went for the beer; but went in vain. The steward said thatlunch would be ready at twelve o'clock.

  "They are such brutes!" said Mrs. Price. "Well, I suppose I mustwait." And she again turned her eyes upon Arthur, and he againthought of Adela Gauntlet.

  And then there was the ordinary confusion of a starting ship. Men andwomen were hurrying about after their luggage, asking all manner ofunreasonable questions. Ladies were complaining of their berths, andservants asking where on _h_earth they were to sleep. Gentlemen wereswearing that they had been shamefully doubled up--that is, madeto lie with two or three men in the same cabin; and friends werecontriving to get commodious seats for dinner. The officers of theship were all busy, treating with apparent indifference the thousandquestions that were asked them on every side; and all was bustle,confusion, hurry, and noise.

  And then they were off. The pistons of the engine moved slowly upand down, the huge cranks revolved, and the waters under the bowrippled and gave way. They were off, and the business of the voyagecommenced. The younger people prepared for their flirtations, themothers unpacked their children's clothes, and the elderly gentlemenlighted their cigars.

  "What very queer women they are!" said Arthur, walking the deck withhis cousin.

  "But very pretty, and very agreeable. I like them both."

  "Don't you think them too free and easy?"

  "Ah, you must not judge of them by women who have lived in England,who have always had the comfort of well-arranged homes. They havebeen knocked about, ill used, and forced to bear hardships as menbear them; but still there is about them so much that is charming.They are so frank!"

  "Yes, very frank," said Arthur.

  "It is well to see the world on all sides," said George. "For myself,I think that we are lucky to have come across them--that is, if MajorBiffin does not cut my throat."

  "I hope Captain M'Gramm won't cut mine. He looked as though hewould."

  "Did you ever see such an ass as that Biffin? I don't wonder that shehas become sick of him; and then he has behaved so very badly to her.I really do pity her. She has told me all about it."

  "And so has Mrs. Price told me all about Captain M'Gramm."

  "Has she? Well! It seems that he, Biffin, has taken advantage of herfrank, easy manner, and talked of her to every man in the ship. Ithink she has been quite right to cut him." And so they discussed thetwo ladies.

  And at last Mrs. Price got her porter, and Mrs. Cox got her pale ale."I do like pale ale," said she; "I suppose it's vulgar, but I can'thelp that. What amuses me is, that so many ladies drink it who arequite ashamed to say they like it."

  "They take it for their health's sake," said Bertram.

  "Oh, yes; of course they do. Mrs. Bangster takes her half-pint ofbrandy every night for her health's sake, no doubt. Would you believeit, Mr. Bertram, the doctor absolutely had to take her out of thesaloon one night in the 'Lahore'? Didn't he, Mrs. Price?"

  "Indeed he did. I never was so shocked.--Just a little drop more tofreshen it." And Mr. Wilkinson gave her another glass of porter.

  Before they reached Malta, all the passengers from India had agreedthat Mrs. Cox and Bertram would certainly make a match of it, andthat Wilkinson was also in danger.

  "Did you ever see such flirts?" said Mrs. Bangster to Dr.O'Shaughnessey. "What an escape Biffin has had!"

  "She is a deuced pretty woman, Mrs. Bangster; and I'll tell you what:Biffin would give one of his eyes to get her back again if he could."

  "Laws, doctor! You don't mean to tell me that he ever meant to marrythat thing?"

  "I don't know what he meant before; but he would mean it now, if hegot the opportunity."

  Here Captain M'Gramm joined them. "Well, Mac," said the doctor, "whatnews with the widow?"

  "Widow! they'd all be widows if they could, I believe."

  "Indeed, I wouldn't, for one," said Mrs. Bangster. "B. is a deal toowell off where he is. Ha! ha! ha!"

  "But what about Mrs. Price--eh, Mac?" continued the doctor.

  "There she is. You'd better go and ask her yourself. You don'tsuppose I ever cared about such a woman as that? Only I do say this:if she goes on behaving herself in that way, some one ought to speakto the captain."

  But Mrs. Cox and Mrs. Price went on their own way, heeding suchmenaces not at all; and by the time they had reached Malta, theyhad told the whole history of their lives to the two gentlemen--andperhaps something more.

  At Malta they remained about six hours, and the four dined on shoretogether. Bertram bought for them Maltese veils and bad cameos; andWilkinson, misled by such an example, was forced to do the same.These treasures were not hidden under a bushel when they returned tothe ship; and Dr. O'Shaughnessey, Mrs. Bangster, the fat judge, anda host of others, were more sure than ever that both the widows werere-engaged.

  And Arthur Wilkinson was becoming frightened in his mind. "Upon myword," said he, as he and George were walking the deck at sunrise thenext morning, "upon my word, I am getting very tired of
this woman,and I really think we are making a show of ourselves."

  "Making a show of ourselves! What do you mean?"

  "Why, walking with them every day, and always sitting next to them."

  "As to sitting next to them, we can't help that. Everybody alwayssits in the same place, and one must sit next some one; and itwouldn't be kind to leave them to walk alone."

  "I think we may overdo it, you know."

  "Ah, well," said George, "you have some one else to think about. Ihave no one, unless it be this widow. She is kind to me, and as towhat the world says, I care nothing about it."

  On that day Wilkinson was busy with his books, and did not walk withMrs. Price--a piece of neglect which sat uneasily on that lady'smind. But at ten o'clock, as usual, Bertram was pacing the deck withMrs. Cox.

  "What is the matter with your friend?" said she.

  "Oh, nothing. He is home-sick, I suppose."

  "I hope he has not quarrelled with Minnie." For the two ladies hadcome to call each other by their Christian names when they were incompany with the gentlemen; and Bertram had once or twice used thatof Mrs. Cox, not exactly in speaking to her, but in speaking of herin her presence.

  "Oh dear, no," said Bertram.

  "Because it is so odd he should not give her his arm as usual. Isuppose you will be treating me so as we draw nearer to Southampton?"And she looked up at him with a bewitching smile, and pressed gentlyon his arm, and then let her eyes fall upon the deck.

  My brother, when you see these tricks played upon other men, the gallrises black within your breast, and you loudly condemn wiles whichare so womanly, but which are so unworthy of women. But how do youfeel when they are played upon yourself? The gall is not so black,the condemnation less loud; your own merit seems to excuse thepreference which is shown you; your heart first forgives and thenapplauds. Is it not so, my brother, with you? So it was, at least,with George Bertram.

  "What! treating you with neglect, because we are soon to part?"

  "Yes, exactly so; just that; because we are soon to part. That iswhat makes it so bitter. We have been such good friends, haven't we?"

  "And why should we not remain so? Why should we talk of parting? Weare both going to England."

  "England! Yes, but England is a large place. Come, let us lean onthe taffrail, and look at the dolphins. There is that horrid felloweyeing me, as he always does; Major Biffin, I mean. Is he not exactlylike a barber's block? I do so hate him!"

  "But he doesn't hate you, Mrs. Cox."

  "Doesn't he? Well then, he may if he likes. But don't let's talk ofhim. Talk to me about England, Mr. Bertram. Sometimes I do so long tobe there--and then sometimes I don't."

  "You don't--why not?"

  "Do you?"

  "No, I do not; I tell you frankly. I'd sooner be here with you totalk to, with you to look at."

  "Psha, Mr. Bertram! what nonsense! I can't conceive that any womancan ever be worth looking at on board a ship--much less such a one asI! I know you're dying to get home."

  "I might be if I had a home."

  "Is your home with that uncle of yours?" She had heard so much of hisfamily; but he had as yet spoken to her no word about Caroline. "Iwonder what he would say if he could see you now leaning here andtalking to me."

  "If he has any knowledge of human nature, he would say that I was avery happy fellow."

  "And are you?" As she asked him, she looked up into his face withsuch an arch smile that he could not find it in his heart to condemnher.

  "What will you think of my gallantry if I say no?"

  "I hate gallantry; it is all bosh. I wish I were a man, and that Icould call you Bertram, and that you would call me Cox."

  "I would sooner call you Annie."

  "Would you? But that wouldn't be right, would it?" And her hand,which was still within his arm, was pressed upon it with ever solight a pressure.

  "I don't know why it should be wrong to call people by theirChristian names. Should you be angry if I called you Annie?"

  "That might depend-- Tell me this, Mr. Bertram: How many other ladiesdo you call by their Christian names?"

  "A dozen or two."

  "I'll be bound you do."

  "And may I add you to the number?"

  "No, Mr. Bertram; certainly not."

  "May I not? So intimate as we have become, I thought--"

  "I will not be one of a dozen or two." And as she answered him, shedropped her tone of raillery, and spoke in a low, soft, sweet voice.It sounded so sweet on Bertram's ear.

  "But if there be not one--not one other; not one other now--whatthen, Annie?"

  "Not one other now?--Did you say now? Then there has been one."

  "Yes; there has been one."

  "And she--what of her?"

  "It is a tale I cannot tell."

  "Not to me? I should not like you the less for telling me. Do tellme." And she pressed her hand again upon his arm. "I have known therewas something that made you unhappy."

  "Have you?"

  "Oh, yes. I have long known that. And I have so wished to be acomfort to you--if I could. I, too, have had great suffering."

  "I am sure you have."

  "Ah! yes. I did not suffer less because he had been unkind to me."And she put her handkerchief to her eyes, and then brought her handagain upon his arm. "But tell me of her--your one. She is not yourone now--is she, Mr. Bertram?"

  "No, Annie; not now."

  "Is she--?" And she hesitated to ask whether the lady were dead, ormarried to some one else. It might, after all, only be a lovers'quarrel.

  "I drove her from me--and now she is a wife."

  "Drove her from you! Alas! alas!" said Mrs. Cox, with the sweetestemphasis of sympathy. But the result of her inquiries was notunsatisfactory to her.

  "I don't know why I should have told you this," said he.

  "I am so glad you have," she replied.

  "But now that I have told you--"

  "Well--"

  "Now may I call you Annie?"

  "You have done so two or three times."

  "But may I?"

  "If it please you, you may." And the words, though whispered verylow, fell clearly upon his ear.

  "Dearest Annie!"

  "But I did not say you might call me that."

  "But you are."

  "Am I?"

  "Dearest--all but she. Will that make you angry with me?"

  "No, not angry; but--"

  "But what?"

  She looked up at him, pouting with her lip. There was a half-smileon her mouth, and half a tear in her eyes; and her shoulder leantagainst him, and her heart palpitated. She had never been sobeautiful, never so attractive.

  "But what--? What would you say, Annie?"

  "I would say this.--But I know you will think me very bold."

  "I shall not think you too bold if you will say the truth."

  "Then I would say this--that if I loved a man, I could love him quiteas fondly as she loved you."

  "Could you, Annie?"

  "I could. But he should not drive me from him, as you say you didher; never--never--never. He might kill me if he would; but if I oncehad told him that I loved him, I would never leave him afterwards."

  "Tell me so, Annie."

  "No, Mr. Bertram. We have not known each other long enough." And nowshe took her hand from his arm, and let it drop by her side.

  "Tell me so, dear Annie," he repeated; and he tried to regain herhand.

  "There is the luncheon-bell; and since Mr. Wilkinson won't go to Mrs.Price, I must do so."

  "Shall I go?" said he.

  "Do; I will go down by myself."

  "But you love me, Annie?--say that you love me."

  "Nonsense. Here is that fellow, Biffin. Do you go for Mrs.Price--leave me to myself."

  "Don't go down stairs with him."

  "You may be sure I won't--nor with you either this morning. I am halfinclined to be angry with you." And so saying, she moved away.

  "Ah, me! what
have I done!" said Bertram to himself, as he went uponhis mission. "But she is a sweet creature; as beautiful as Hebe; andwhy should I be wretched for ever?"

  She had moved towards the companion-ladder, and as she did so, MajorBiffin followed her.

  "Will you not allow me to give you an arm down stairs?" said he.

  "Thank you, Major Biffin. It is rather crowded, and I can go betteralone."

  "You did not find the stairs in the 'Lahore' too crowded."

  "Oh, yes, I did; very often. And the 'Lahore' and the 'Cagliari' aredifferent things."

  "Very different it seems. But the sea itself is not so fickle as awoman." And Major Biffin became a picture of injured innocence.

  "And the land is not so dry as a man, Major Biffin; that is, somemen. Ha! ha! ha! Good-morning, Major Biffin." And so saying, she wentdown by herself.

  On the next day, Arthur still preferred his book to walking with Mrs.Price; and that lady was once again seen with her arm in that ofCaptain M'Gramm's. This made a considerable consternation in theship; and in the afternoon there was a slight quarrel between the twoladies.

  "And so, Minnie, you are going to take up with that fellow again?"

  "No; I am not. But I don't choose to be left altogether to myself."

  "I never would have anything to say to a married man that drops hiswife as he does."

  "I don't care two straws for him, or his wife. But I don't want tomake myself conspicuous by a quarrel."

  "I'm sure Wilkinson will be annoyed," said Mrs. Cox.

  "He's a muff," said Mrs. Price. "And, if I am not mistaken, I knowsome one else who is another."

  "Who do you mean, Mrs. Price?"

  "I mean Mr. Bertram, Mrs. Cox."

  "Oh, I dare say he is a muff; that's because he's attentive to meinstead of leaving me to myself, as somebody does to somebody else. Iunderstand all about that, my dear."

  "You understand a great deal, I have no doubt," said Mrs. Price. "Ialways heard as much."

  "It seems to me you understand nothing, or you wouldn't be walkingabout with Captain M'Gramm," said Mrs. Cox. And then they parted,before blood was absolutely drawn between them.

  At dinner that day they were not very comfortable together. Mrs.Price accepted Mr. Wilkinson's ordinary courtesies in a stately way,thanking him for filling her glass and looking after her plate, ina tone and with a look which made it plain to all that things werenot progressing well between them. George and his Annie did get onsomewhat better; but even they were not quite at their ease. Mrs. Coxhad said, before luncheon, that she had not known Mr. Bertram longenough to declare her love for him. But the hours between luncheonand dinner might have been a sufficient prolongation of the period oftheir acquaintance. George, however, had not repeated the question;and had, indeed, not been alone with her for five minutes during theafternoon.

  That evening, Wilkinson again warned his friend that he might begoing too far with Mrs. Cox; that he might say that which he couldneither fulfil nor retract. For Wilkinson clearly conceived it to beimpossible that Bertram should really intend to marry this widow.

  "And why should I not marry her?" said George.

  "She would not suit you, nor make you happy."

  "What right have I to think that any woman will suit me? or whatchance is there that any woman will make me happy? Is it not allleather and prunella? She is pretty and clever, soft and feminine.Where shall I find a nicer toy to play with? You forget, Arthur, thatI have had my day-dreams, and been roused from them somewhat roughly.With you, the pleasure is still to come."

  After this they turned in and went to bed.