"Because, then, sir, the author may read his work to his wife, which is a circumstance productive of great pleasure on both sides, you perceive."
"It might be, but I think it might'nt, sir?" Verty said.
"How, might'nt be?"
"It might be very bad writing—not interesting—such as ought to be burned, you know," said Verty.
"Hum!" replied Roundjacket, "there's something in that."
"If I was to write—but I could'nt—I don't think I would read it to my wife—if I had a wife," added Verty.
And he sighed.
"A wife! you!" cried Mr. Roundjacket.
"Is there anything wrong in my wishing to marry?"
"Hum!—yes, sir; there is a certain amount of irrationality in any body desiring such a thing—not in you especially."