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148
The Diary of a Nobody
·
George Grossmith Weedon Grossmith
61
Carrie
and
I
talked
the
matter
over
during
the
evening,
and
agreed
that
it
did
not
always
follow
that
an
early
engagement
meant
an
unhappy
marriage.
Dear
Carrie
reminded
me
that
we
married
early,
and,
with
the
exception
of
a
few
trivial
misunderstandings,
we
had
never
had
a
really
serious
word.
I
could
not
help
thinking
(as
I
told
her)
that
half
the
pleasures
of
life
were
derived
from
the
little
struggles
and
small
privations
that
one
had
to
endure
at
the
beginning
of
one’s
married
life.
Such
struggles
were
generally
occasioned
by
want
of
means,
and
often
helped
to
make
loving
couples
stand
together
all
the
firmer.
Carrie
said
I
had
expressed
myself
wonderfully
well,
and
that
I
was
quite
a
philosopher.
We
are
all
vain
at
times,
and
I
must
confess
I
felt
flattered
by
Carrie’s
little
compliment.
I
don’t
pretend
to
be
able
to
express
myself
in
fine
language,
but
I
feel
I
have
the
power
of
expressing
my
thoughts
with
simplicity
and
lucidness.
About
nine
o’clock,
to
our
surprise,
Lupin
entered,
with
a
wild,
reckless
look,
and
in
a
hollow
voice,
which
I
must
say
seemed
rather
theatrical,
said:
“Have
you
any
brandy?”
I
said:
“No;
but
here
is
some
whisky.”
Lupin
drank
off
nearly
a
wineglassful
without
water,
to
my
horror.
We
all
three
sat
reading
in
silence
till
ten,
when
Carrie
and
I
rose
to
go
to
bed.
Carrie
said
to
Lupin:
“I
hope
Daisy
is
well?”
Lupin,
with
a
forced
careless
air
that
he
must
have
picked
up
from
the
“Holloway
Comedians,”
replied:
“Oh,
Daisy?
You
mean
Miss
Mutlar.
I
don’t
know
whether
she
is
well
or
not,
but
please
never
to
mention
her
name
again
in
my
presence.”
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