“My dear, I’m always delighted to take you with me, but I can’t take you everywhere.”
“Where can’t you take me?”
“Well—to the club!” He smiled, and took up a newspaper.
“I suppose you must go to your club sometimes,” she said rather grudgingly. “But tell me, Nigel, would you like us to go in more for society again as we used at first?”
He thought a moment. There were more quarrels when they saw more people—in fact, the fewer people they met the fewer subjects arose for scenes.
“Well,” he said, “suppose you give just one party this year. Just to ‘keep our circle together,’ as they say—then we can stop it again, if you like.”
“What sort of party?”
“Any sort. Musical, if you like.”
“Oh! that means having horrid singers and players, and performers! I don’t like that set, Nigel.”
“All right. Let’s give a dance. We’ve got a splendid floor.”