"I've ventured to tell your husband that perhaps he has been taking it
all too seriously."
"Oh, has he? I'm so glad to hear you say it." And Mavis Dale, with her
elbows on the table, leaned forward and watched the deputy's face
intently.
"Too much of the personal equation."
"Yes?"
"What I say is, little accidents happen to all of us--but they blow
over."
Mavis Dale drew in her breath, and her eyebrows contracted. "Mr.
Ridgett! The way you say that, shows you really think it's serious for
him."
"Oh, I don't in the least read it up as ruin and all the rest of it.
It's just a check. In Mr. Dale's place, I should be philosophical. I
should say, 'This is going to put me back a bit, but nothing else.'"
Dale shrugged his shoulders and snorted. Mrs. Dale's eyebrows had
drawn so close together that they almost touched; her eyes appeared
darker, smaller, more opaque. Mr. Ridgett continued talking in a tone
of light facetiousness that seemed to cover a certain deprecating
earnestness.
"Yes, that would be _my_ point of view--quite general, philosophical.
I should say to myself, 'Old chap, if you're in for a jolly good
wigging, why, just take it. If you're to be offered a little humble
pie to eat--well, eat it.
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