"Oh, if you go to quoting Tennyson, it's all up with me. Are you married?"
"One can easily see that at any rate you are not."
"Explain."
"Your voice lacks the proper and requisite anxiety. It is always the married woman who enjoys the mask with thoroughness. She knows her husband will be watching her; and jealousy is a good sign."
"You are a philosopher. Certainly you must be married."
"Well, one does become philosophical—after marriage."
"But are you married?"
"I do not say so."
"Would you like to be?"
"I have my share of feminine curiosity. But I wonder,"—ruminating, "why they do not give masquerades oftener."