'Henry,' I said, hurrying into the study. 'I have got a solution regarding William's entanglement. I am going to invite Gladys to spend a week here with us.'
'How can that help? I don't quite see——'
'My dear ass, the idea isn't a novel one, but in this case it's excellent. I'll write her a note on the instant and ask her if she'll come, giving as a pretext that I'm feeling lonely in Marion's absence.'
'But why this hurry? Hadn't you better think it over first?'
'If I pause to think it over, Henry, I know I shall decide that I can't tolerate Gladys for an entire week. As it is, I expect she'll drive me stark mad. No, no, let me write while I am in my present frenzy of philanthropy?'
'I suppose,' he reflected, 'William will practically spend the week here, too, when he knows Gladys is coming.'
'Exactly. What about it?'
'I'm thinking of my work,' he grumbled. 'Two people being disillusioned under one roof are sure to create interruptions.'
'They shan't interrupt you. I intend to leave them together as much as possible. How glad I am that Gladys isn't the least bit clever—a week might not be long enough if she were.'
'I'm not sanguine about the idea,' was Henry's comment. 'It might work out all right in books and plays; but in real life its effect is extremely doubtful.'