“Yes, they can,” he said, soothingly, “but I prefer you to take the name that belongs to you. You are always crying honesty. What about sailing under false colours?”
“I think we had better have some breakfast,” she said, haughtily.
“Yes, Nina, but first go take off that red toggery.”
“My morning jacket,” she said, with annoyance, “my new morning jacket with the pinked edges. Mamma said it would be just the thing for breakfast.”
“For Rubicon Meadows, not for a city hotel.”
“I refuse to take it off. Mamma spent hours in making it.”
“Then I refuse to take breakfast with you, little green, country apple.”
“Whose fault is it that I am green?” she said, irritably. “Who has kept me mewed up in the country?”
“The best place for you, duckie. Go take off that jacket.”
“Oh, I am so disappointed in you. I am so sorry I left home. I thought men were nice and amiable when they were married. I thought they would let their wives do anything; and you said you lov—loved me!”