Jim opened his puzzled blue eyes. "Want of breakfast, I s'pose," he ruminated, "but I don't know what you're talkin' about."
"I've passed a white night," announced his wife, abruptly.
"What's that?"
"The French expression for a wakeful night."
"But you say it in English, and how can----?"
"It's useless wasting French on a man who understands only the argot of the trottoir."
"You're wastin' it now. A wakeful night--eh? Why didn't you try that new sedative Demetrius gave you?"
"I didn't want to sleep. This book was too interesting. I wish you to read it;" and she extended the novel to her husband.
"What!!!" If she had offered poison Jim could not have betrayed more abhorrence. "Read? You--want--me--to--read?"
"Well, you know words of two syllables, don't you?" she retorted impatiently. "Take it."