“You would get even more bored than before. Dear old boy. Do be reasonable. Do cultivate a sense of humor.”
“This is not a farce,” said Herbert. “It’s a horrible tragedy.”
“Take up a hobby or something,” said Clare. “Golf—or fretwork.”
Herbert was furious.
“Fretwork! Is that a joke or an insult?”
“It was only a suggestion!” said Clare. Herbert jumped up from his chair.
“I had better go and drown myself straight away...”?
He turned at the door, and gave a tragic look at his wife. “Good-by.”
Clare smiled at him.
“Won’t you kiss me before you go?”