“Good boy!” said Mr. Lapwing vaguely, and continued pacing up and down the dim, long room, while Valentine sat still and thought of his past life and found it rotten.
Suddenly Mr. Lapwing said, in that irritatingly exact way of his which was never quite exact: “You, Valentine, are twenty-nine years old. Valerest is twenty-two——”
“Four,” said Valentine.
“Very well. And you have been married just over three years——”
“Nearly five,” sighed Valentine.
“Very well. You, Valentine, want a child. Valerest, however, does not want a child just yet. Your argument is a sound one: that if parents wait too long before their children are born, by the time the children grow up the parents will be too old to share any of their interests and pleasures——”
“That’s right,” said Valentine sourly. “Valerest and I will be a pair of old dodderers by the time they’re of age.”
“Exactly. A very sound argument. Whereas Valerest——”
Valentine snapped: “She doesn’t even trouble to argue. She just sits and grins!”
“Exactly. She is much too deeply in the wrong to argue. When nations are too deeply in the wrong to argue they call on God and go to war. When women are too deeply in the wrong to argue they sit and grin. And I daresay that the way you put your arguments gives Valerest plenty to sit and grin about.”