“Have you ever dined there before?” said Bertha.
“No. I’ve been to tennis-parties and that sort of thing, but I’ve hardly set foot inside their house.”
“Well, I think it’s an impertinence of her to ask you now.”
Edward opened his mouth wide: “What on earth d’you mean?”
“Oh, don’t you see?” cried his wife, “they’re merely asking you because you’re my husband. It’s humiliating.”
“Nonsense!” replied Edward, laughing. “And if they are, what do I care?—I’m not so thin-skinned as that. Mrs. Branderton was very nice to me the other Sunday; it would be funny if we didn’t accept.”
“Did you think she was nice? Didn’t you see that she was patronising you as if you were a groom. It made me boil with rage. I could hardly hold my tongue.”
Edward laughed again. “I never noticed anything. It’s just your fancy, Bertha.”
“I’m not going to her horrid dinner-party.”
“Then I shall go by myself,” he replied, laughing.