Page:Further Chronicles of Avonlea (1920).djvu/267

Rh bed. A chill, premonitory fear crept over Eunice. It did not surprise her at all when Christopher finally said, abruptly, “Eunice, I’ve a notion to get married this spring.”

Eunice clasped her hands together under the table. It was what she had been expecting. She said so, in a monotonous voice.

“We must make some arrangement for — for you, Eunice,” Christopher went on, in a hurried, hesitant way, keeping his eyes riveted doggedly on his plate. “Victoria doesn’t exactly like — well, she thinks it’s better for young married folks to begin life by themselves, and I guess she’s about right. You wouldn’t find it comfortable, anyhow, having to step back to second place after being mistress here so long.”

Eunice tried to speak, but only an indistinct murmur came from her bloodless lips. The sound made Christopher look up. Something in her face irritated him. He pushed back his chair impatiently.

“Now, Eunice, don’t go to taking on. It won't be any use. Look at this business in a sensible way. I’m fond of you, and all that, but a man is bound to consider his wife first. I’ll provide for you comfortably.”

“Do you mean to say that your wife is going to turn me out?” Eunice gasped, rather than spoke, the words.