“I’m getting fat,” he said, “good for all of us when we get down to Garth.”
“George ...” she began and stopped.
“Well, my dear.” He put his hand on her shoulder, and then as though embarrassed by the unexpected intimacy that his action produced, withdrew it.
“Don’t you think we might go out to the theatre one evening—theatre or something?”
“What! With the children? Family party! Splendid idea!”
“No, I didn’t mean with the children—exactly. Just you and I alone. Dine somewhere—have an evening together.”
It was no use to pretend that he was not surprised. She saw his astonishment.
“Why, of course—if you’d really care about it. Mostly pantomimes just now—but I daresay we could find something. Good idea. Good idea.”
“Now that—now that—the children are beginning to marry and go off by themselves. Why, I thought ... you understand....”
“Of course. Of course,” he said again. “Any night you like. You remind me....”