"Short-sighted, liebchen? How?"
"So many things in literature stop short when the people are married. I think that's such an immature point of view—just as if that were the end of the story. And when they write stories about married people they usually have them terribly unhappy about having to live together, and wishing they could live with some one else. It seems to me they leave out the best part."
"The best part, I suppose, meaning us?"
"Yes!"
"But, dear, if you and I were written up, just as we are, we'd be called two idiots."
"Would we?"—her head was caressing his coat.
"Have you ever thought how a stenographic or phonographic report of some of our conversations would sound?"
"Beautiful," she murmured.
"Crazy!" he insisted.
"Perhaps the world didn't mean people to be so happy as we are,"—her words stumbled drowsily.