"But, darling, you must remember," she insisted, in affectionate exasperation. "Lily found one on the piano this morning; I barely moved the sugar bowl, and look at this table cloth! Your old ashes have made it simply filthy. The hall table's marked; your bureau——"
"I always mean to put 'em on the rack," he urged in contrition.
She sniffed distastefully, holding out the offender at the end of dainty fingers. "Here it is."
Again, he would become unreasonably exasperated when she insisted upon asking what meat he would prefer for dinner, when she had him to shop with her. "Mm-hmm, it's a lovely steak," he would agree abstractedly. "Yes, I like ham, too.... Or a roast. Darling, I don't care. Get anything."
She felt aggrieved at his callousness upon the momentous topic.
Upon other matters connected with eating he was not so unopinionated. "Just look here, Jane! Lily's douched the potatoes in fat again. You know that fried starch——"
"Yes, dear, I know ... by now. You needn't eat any; she'll bring some mashed ones for you."
He grinned surlily. "I'll try a few, Jane; I like them, though they're not good for me.... Another spoonful, please."
The country club was another viand of contention. Jane had never enjoyed the inconsequential chatter and watery flirtations that were its chief offer; Pelham found in them a forgetfulness from strike worries and the increasing financial problem.
The week after their sight of Canopus, he announced a determination to drop by for tennis with Lane Cullom, and the dinner afterwards.