“Forget them . . . ! If I can only find a play with some good laughs in it. . . .”
She picked up her gloves. “You stay. I’d rather go home, really.”
“Well, go ahead!” said Wilfred recklessly. “And by God! I’ll get drunk! Sometimes it’s the only rejoinder . . . !”
Frances Mary laid down her gloves.
They were walking down the avenue. Apropos of nothing, Frances Mary said: “Anyway, the man was impossible! Such insolence!”
A great rush of gratitude filled Wilfred’s breast. She was coming ’round! Cheers! He cunningly hid his joy. He did not honestly think that Joe had been insolent, but one could concede that! “I always told you what he was.”
“The cheek of his pretending that he had never heard of you, when you’re a regular contributor to one of his rotten magazines!”
“It’s quite on the cards that he may never read his magazines,” said Wilfred. “Indeed, I hope it may be true that I am unknown to him. That’s why I kicked you under the table.”
“I don’t understand.”