“In the shirt you just pulled off.” Mrs. Man put on her gloves while Mr. Man hunted up and down the room for his cuff buttons.
“Elinor, I believe you must know where those buttons are.”
“I didn’t see them. Didn’t you leave them on the window-sill in the living-room last night?”
Mr. Man remembered, and down the stairs he flew. He stepped on one of his boots and was immediately landed at the foot of the stairs with neatness and dispatch, attended in the transmission with more bumps than he could count.
“Are you nearly ready, dear?”
The unhappy man groaned. “Can’t you throw me down my other boot?”
Mrs. Man pitifully kicked it down to him.
“My valise?”
“In your dressing-room.”
“Packed?”