A LADY DRESSED RATHER LOW IN THE NECK, to another lady dressed equally low, in a whisper. The fact is, my dear, the moral of all this is that there are no happy couples but couples of four.
A FRIEND, whom the author was so imprudent as to consult. Those last words are false.
THE AUTHOR. Do you think so?
THE FRIEND, who has just been married. You all of you use your ink in depreciating social life, on the pretext of enlightening us! Why, there are couples a hundred, a thousand times happier than your boasted couples of four.
THE AUTHOR. Well, shall I deceive the marrying class of the population, and scratch the passage out?
THE FRIEND. No, it will be taken merely as the point of a song in a vaudeville.
THE AUTHOR. Yes, a method of passing truths off upon society.
THE FRIEND, who sticks to his opinion. Such truths as are destined to be passed off upon it.
THE AUTHOR, who wants to have the last word. Who and what is there that does not pass off, or become passe? When your wife is twenty years older, we will resume this conversation.
THE FRIEND. You revenge yourself cruelly for your inability to write the history of happy homes.