"And that's the truth! The solemn literal truth! That's my story!"
To confess, it had been necessary to be swept away in a burst of anger. The necessity having ceased, he crossed his arms, quite calm, laughing a low, scornful laugh.
"My dear boy," said De Gollyer, to relieve the tension, "as a matter of fact, that's the way you're all caught."
"I believe it," said Lightbody curtly. He had now an instinctive desire to insult the whole female sex.
"I know—a bachelor knows. The things I have seen and the things I have heard. My dear fellow, as a matter of fact, marriage is all very well for bankers and brokers, unconvicted millionaires, week domestic animals in search of a capable housekeeper, you know, and all that sort of thing, but for men of the world—like ourselves, it's a mistake. Don't do it again, my boy—don't do it."
Lightbody laughed a barking laugh that quite satisfied De Gollyer.
"Husbands—modern social husbands—are excrescences—they don't count. They're mere financial tabulators—nothing more than social sounding-boards."
"Right!" said Lightbody savagely.
"Ah, you like that, do you?" said De Gollyer, pleased. "I do say a good thing occasionally. Social sounding-boards! Why, Jack, in one-half of the marriages in this country—no, by George, in two-thirds—if the inconsequential, tabulating husband should come home to find a letter like this—he'd be dancing a can-can!"
Lightbody felt a flood of soul-easing laughter well up within him. He bit his lip and answered: