"I know these stray cats," I said. "Stiff with microbes. Tribes of mangy lovers prowling round the house. A nest of kittens in my top-hat. I know."
"Poor li'l pussy," cooed Marjorie. "Don'tum listen to the big coarse man."
"Coarse be——"
In other (and more suitable) words—
HUSBAND'S PROFANITY.
MASK OFF AFTER TWO YEARS.
PEEVISH ABOUT WIFE'S PET.
Marjorie said coldly that she didn't know I had such a temper. I said hotly that I didn't know she could be so infantile.
We went on discovering things we hadn't known about each other:—
THE TESTING TIME
IN CONJUGAL FELICITY,
IS IT THE THIRD YEAR?
Dinner was an ordeal. I felt miles apart from Marjorie. A great gulf filled with black-and-yellow cat lay between us. Once only the topic of the beast arose (on the subject of fish-bones) and just as I was becoming big and coarse again the maid entered with the joint. She must have heard what I said.
SHOULD SERVANTS TELL?
BACKDOOR SCANDAL.