“Oh, I don’t know,” said Mrs. Heywood meekly. “Except that I thought Clare is feeling rather lonely.”
“Lonely?” said Herbert. “She has you, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, she has me.”
Mrs. Heywood spoke as though that might be a doubtful consolation.
“Besides, what more does she want? She has her afternoon At Homes, hasn’t she?”
“Yes, dear,” said Mrs. Heywood, still more doubtfully.
“And she can always go to a matinée if she wants to, can’t she?”
“Yes, dear.”
“Then I have taken out a subscription to Mudie’s for her, haven’t I?”
Herbert Heywood spoke as though his wife had all the blessings of life, as though he had provided her with all that a woman’s heart might desire. But Mrs. Heywood interrupted his catalogue of good things.