"Toss-pots, my ears are to be burned and foul aspersions cast upon a liver, till then spotless. Am I discouraged? No. Emboldened rather. In short, I will attend the rout."
"At last," sighed Daphne.
"My dear. I ordered the supper yesterday. We're sharing a table with the Scarlets. But you needn't have burned my ear."
"Only means some one was talking about you," said Daphne. "Why did you say you weren't going?"
"A passion for perversity," said I.
Berry stole a cautious glance at the time. The hands stood at a quarter past three. A slow grin spread over his countenance.
"Didn't you say something about a sacred concert?" he said. "Good Heavens," cried Daphne, jumping up. "I forgot all about it. It begins at thr—"
Arrested by her husband's seraphic smile, she swung round and looked at the clock.
Berry apostrophized the carpet.
"Sweet are the uses of perversity," he said, with inimitable inflection. For a moment his wife eyed him, speechless with inindignation. Then: