“Because I should like you to take me to a—a theater.”
“Oh, my dear Marjorie,” he laughed heartily, “you know well enough that you and I could never enjoy the same play. You’d pick out some prosaic sermon that would have me snoring inside of ten minutes, and I’d select a rattling musical comedy, the mere mention of which would cause you to turn up your nose disdainfully. No, just tell me the play you have in mind, and I’ll get you tickets for a matinée. You can take some lady friend.”
“I haven’t any play in mind, Hugh, and I’m perfectly willing to attend any musical comedy you select,” answered his wife quietly.
“Hmm!” Hugh was almost too bewildered to speak. “That is very nice of you, but I’m sorry I can’t break the engagement I have for this evening.”
“How about to-morrow evening?” she asked intrepidly.
“To-morrow night is my club night,” he answered coldly, “and besides, it is so long since we went anywhere together I have rather systemized my evenings to suit myself.”
She flushed as she turned to go. But the thought of all that a misunderstanding with Hugh on this evening of evenings would mean, she determined on one more effort, cost what it might in pride. She came over and stood before him. “Hugh,” she offered diffidently, as might a child pleading for admiration, “I have changed my style of dress—especially to please you. Do you like it?”
Her husband glanced at her casually. Then he picked up his gloves and started to draw them on.
“Oh, it’s all right, I suppose,” was his comment, “but pray don’t inconvenience yourself in an effort to please me. You gave that up long ago.”
Marjorie took another step toward him and her gesture was pleading.