“Your warm nature has surely changed the condition of things, for I feel more like riding just now than sleeping.”
“That's good. Suppose we have a moonlight race?”
“I protest against any such proceeding, being the lord and master of this manor,” said her husband, looking up from his book, in which they supposed he was too deeply engaged to hear their conversation.
Reader, don't trust a gentleman who has his eyes on the page of a volume when two ladies are conversing.
“Then I suppose there's nothing left for us but to go to bed.”
“Yes, a something else,” said her husband.
“What?”
“Go to sleep.”
“Stupid! I suppose you think you have made a brilliant speech.”
“On the contrary I think it the reverse. I never waste scintillations of genius on unappreciative auditors.”