'And the signature, dear?' Geraldine glanced up at her husband, offering him a suggestion humbly, as a wife should in the presence of third parties.
'Oh!' said Henry. 'Of course, Mr. Doxey's name must go with mine, as one of the authors of the piece. Certainly.'
'Dearest,' Geraldine murmured when Doxey had gone, 'you are perfect. You don't really need an agent.'
He laughed. 'There's rather too much "old chap" about Doxey,' he said. 'Who's Doxey?'
'He's quite harmless, the little creature,' said Geraldine good-naturedly.
They sat silent for a time.
'Miles Robinson makes fifteen thousand a year out of plays,' Geraldine murmured reflectively.
'Does he?' Henry murmured reflectively.
The cavalry arrived, in full panoply of war.
'I am thankful Sarah stays with us,' said Mrs. Knight. 'Servants are so much more difficult to get now than they were in my time.'