“Why, I do not remember, dear, exactly;” answered Johns, “to the club mostly, and down town and around.”
“There, I knew it,” cried Mrs. Johns, “I knew you had been around, and you know how I hate men who go around.”
“But don’t be hasty, dear,” said Johns. “Where have you been? Have you not been around during the past eight days?”
“Yes, I have, Jack, but you know a woman’s around, and a man’s around, are not alike,” sobbed Mrs. Johns.
“No; no more than their clothes are alike, thank heaven,” said Johns.
“And where is the maid?” asked Mrs. Johns.
“Fired,” replied Johns.
“Discharged!” exclaimed Mrs. Johns. “Oh, Jack, you are dreadful. Where will I get another? You are turning out so different to what you used to be; so different to what I expected. I don’t believe I love you any more.”
“Try a little,” said Johns, kissing her without her offering much resistance. “Try,” kisses, “try again,” more kisses. Oh, it was disgusting the way she gave in.
“You are different too, dear;” continued Johns, “so different from the pliable, unsophisticated young thing of twenty I courted. At twenty-three you are quite old and domineering, and it does not become you a bit to become domineering. It makes lines on your face to be domineering. Will we go down to the cafe for dinner?”