Dreamily, Mrs. Festival regarded the ceiling.
“I frequently wonder,” she said, “what possessed me to marry you.”
“My beauty of soul,” said her husband pleasantly. “You were all dazzled.”
“I think,” continued his wife, “it was out of pity. You know. When you see people laughing at someone, and the someone joins in, never dreaming that they’re the object of the mirth, one feels sorry for them.”
Captain Giles Festival swallowed before replying.
Then—
“I know,” he said. “Like when we were dining with the Mascots, and you kept talking about soap.”
Katharine Festival flushed.
The reminiscence was not one which she cherished.
Lady Mascot’s father and soft soap had been mutually constructive.