“Didn’t you know he was married?” asked Miss Klegg, and was struck by a thought that made her glance quickly at her companion. ‘Get out! Out, I say! Think I want another miserable cowardly good-for-nothing wastrel on my hands? Begone! Out of my house!’ He drove them to the door, grimly satisfied when the girl’s nerve broke. We were properly married, and the certificate is at my lawyer’s. For it was not a good thing to like one man too much when one was going to marry another. Its cavernous expanses equaled the upstairs of the house.
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