“All right, then,” Pete said in an aggrieved tone. “But you are an inspiration, just the same. It is the chief vocation of women.” He moved over to the desk and took up a bunch of papers there.
“Oh, are you going to write again this evening?” Clara asked in a burst of despair.
“Yes.” Pete hesitated. “I thought I’d work for an hour or two and then I’d go out.”
Clara groaned. “If you leave me another minute of this day, I shall go mad. I’ve had nothing but housework all the morning and then a little talk with the girls, late this afternoon. I want something different now.”
“Well, let me read the third act to you,” Pete offered.
“No, I don’t feel like being read to. I want some excitement.”
Pete sighed, and put his manuscript down.
“All right. Let’s go in swimming. But I’ll have to leave you after an hour.”
“Are you going to see Peachy?” Clara demanded shrilly.
“No.” Pete’s tone was stern. “I’m going to the Clubhouse.”