“My theory is that you have some really improper book wrapped in the paper, and that is why you so guiltily hide it from me.”
“Oh, Donald, it gives me such happiness to read it!”
“That was the reason I asked you why you had tears in your eyes, when I surprised you that day. Your happiness was most enviable!”
“Men never understand women!”
“Deo gratias.”
“But I love it.”
“I don’t like to hear you express such sentiments for so erotic a book.”
“Oh, don’t apply such a word to it!” she cried, in a pained voice.
“A word,” I explained, “taken from the Greek erotikos, which is derived from erao, meaning ‘I love passionately.’ It is singularly descriptive, Maizie.”
“If it means that, I like it, but I thought you were insulting my book.”