“Harry, did you really want to—to leave me?”
“Not a bit,” lied Harry. “It was only to keep my word to Parmlee.”
“I suppose it’s too late now?” questioned Margaret, hopefully.
“Late? Oh, no! Fun’s just beginning. But I’m going to stay with you, sweetheart.”
There was a moment’s silence, and then Margaret said: “If you want to go, I want you to do it, Harry.”
“Well,” responded Harry, rising, “if you insist, dearest.”
“I do,” assented Margaret, in the most faint-hearted of voices.
“That’s a darling!” said her husband. “It’s half-past nine, so you’ll only have a few minutes of loneliness before you go to bed.”
“I sha’n’t go to bed, Harry,” sighed Margaret, dolefully.
“Why, my darling,” protested Harry, a little irritably, “you don’t want to make me miserable thinking of you as here by yourself. Please be reasonable and don’t sit up for me. Leave me free to come home when I want.”