“You didn’t suspect it?”
“No. You smoke cigarettes—but that has ceased to be unconventional.”
“I rather thought you had a favorable opinion of my intelligence,” said she.
“So I have,” said I. “To be perfectly frank, you seemed to me to have as good a mind as your brother.”
“That is flattering,” said she, immensely pleased, and with reason. “Well, if you thought so favorably of my intelligence, how could you believe me conventional?”
“I see,” said I. “No one who thinks can be conventional.”
“Conventionality,” said she, “was invented to save some people the trouble of thinking and to prevent others from being outrageous through trying to think when they’ve nothing to think with.”
“That is worth remembering and repeating,” laughed I. “Personally, I’m deeply grateful for conventionality. You see, I came up from the bottom, and I find it satisfactory to be able to refer to the rules in all the things I knew nothing about.”
“My brother says the most remarkable thing about you—and your wife— Do you mind my telling you?”
“Go on,” said I.