Boxer, in trembling accents.
"I did," said her husband.
"Hussy," cried Mrs. Boxer.
"I married her," said Mr. Boxer, considering--"I married her at
Camberwell, in eighteen ninety-three."
"Eighteen ninety-three!" said his wife, in a startled voice. "But you
couldn't. Why, you didn't marry me till eighteen ninety-four."
"What's that got to do with it?" inquired the monster, calmly.
Mrs. Boxer, pale as ashes, rose from her seat and stood gazing at him
with horror-struck eyes, trying in vain to speak.
"You villain!" cried Mrs. Gimpson, violently. "I always distrusted you."
[Illustration: "'You villain!' cried Mrs. Gimpson, violently. 'I always
distrusted you.'"]
"I know you did," said Mr. Boxer, calmly. "You've been committing
bigamy," cried Mrs. Gimpson.
"Over and over agin," assented Mr. Boxer, cheerfully. "It's got to be a
'obby with me."
"Was the first wife alive when you married my daughter?" demanded Mrs.
Gimpson.
"Alive?" said Mr. Boxer. "O' course she was. She's alive now--bless
her."
He leaned back in his chair and regarded with intense satisfaction the
horrified faces of the group in front.
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