“My husband objects to my playing golf,” said the lady.
“It takes women out of the home so much,” said Hargreaves. “Play with the babies is my motto for women.”
Mrs. Atkinson Brown shook her finger at him, and laughed in a shrill voice:
“But supposing they haven’t got any babies?”
“They ought to have ‘em,” said Hargreaves.
It was Atkinson Brown who interrupted this interesting discussion, which promised to bring up the great problem of eugenics, so favored now as a drawing-room topic. He had been turning his sandwich this way and that, and he leaned forward to his host:
“Excuse me, Herbert, old man. There’s something the matter with this sandwich.”
“Something the matter with it?” asked Herbert anxiously.
“It’s covered with red spots,” said Atkinson Brown.
“Spots—what kind of spots?”