KATE. [The picture spoiled.] No? Oh. [Plaintively.] Here have I all these years been conceiving it wrongly. [She studies his face.] I believe something interesting happened.
SIR HARRY. [Growling.] Something confoundedly annoying.
KATE. [Coaxing.] Do tell me.
SIR HARRY. We won't go into that. Who was the man? Surely a husband has a right to know with whom his wife bolted.
KATE. [Who is detestably ready with her tongue.] Surely the wife has a right to know how he took it. [The woman's love of bargaining comes to her aid.] A fair exchange. You tell me what happened, and I will tell you who he was.
SIR HARRY. You will? Very well.
[It is the first point on which they have agreed, and, forgetting himself, he takes a place beside her on the fire-seat. He is thinking only of what he is to tell her, but she, womanlike, is conscious of their proximity.
KATE. [Tastelessly.] Quite like old times. [He moves away from her indignantly.] Go on, Harry.
SIR HARRY. [Who has a manful shrinking from saying anything that is to his disadvantage.] Well, as you know, I was dining at the club that night.
KATE. Yes.