"There are always things to annoy one," she answers, vaguely.
"It is an arrangement of a prudential Providence to prevent our affections being set on this world," replies Usk, piously.
His wife's only comment on this religious declaration is an impatient twist to the tail of her Maltese dog.
Usk proceeds to turn over to her such letters as bore him; they are countable by dozens; the two or three which interest him have been read in the gun-room and put away in an inside pocket.
"Mr. Bruce could attend to all these," she says, looking with some disgust at the correspondence. Bruce is his secretary.
"He always blunders," says Usk.
"Then change him," says his wife; nevertheless she is pleased at the compliment implied to herself.
"All secretaries are fools," says Usk, impartially.
"Even secretaries of state," says Mr. Wootton, who has the entrée of the boudoir, and saunters in at that moment. "I have some news this morning," he adds: "Coltsfoot marries Miss Hoard."
"Never!" exclaims Dorothy Usk.