“And as she has turned her back on millionaires, I propose to do my part in steering her toward happiness with the common or garden variety of husband. But, of course, this must be done tactfully. So, when she comes for the conference to-night—you are to act as if she just dropped in accidentally and we insisted on her staying to see the fun.”
“Fun! Um-m—” murmured Mr. Larry. “If this conference is on the practical question of reducing the cost of living, and Claire betrays interest, I fear she will rouse the suspicions of sharp-eyed, clever Teresa Moore. Why can’t you women play the game of being in love, like we men do, open and above aboard?”
“Because, dearest husband, for generations we have been taught that a ‘nice’ girl does not flaunt love. Your grandmothers might have died of love, but admit it—never. However, at the present rate of liberation, we’ll soon be proposing—”
“Do you really believe that men propose? Why—”
“Now, Larry Hall, don’t you dare start that moth-eaten argument. You did—”
“Of course, but you were an exceptional girl—”
Having admitted that such might be the case and having escaped from her husband’s enfolding arms, Mrs. Larry outlined the evening’s plans.
“You remember that dear little Mrs. Norton I met coming from the Queensboro market? Well, she and I decided that on this block are enough housekeepers to form a market club—”
“No doubt the lady across the hall, with the chestnut locks and the five hundred dollar Pekinese, will be deeply interested in such a project.”
“Now, Larry, don’t be discouraging. We have been looking over our neighbors, and we’re going to start with the ones that take their own babies for an airing on the drive.”