"You're not looking yourself," ventured Mr. Chalk, after a time.
His wife received the information silence.
"I've noticed it for some time," said the thoughtful husband, making another effort. "It's worried me."
"I'm not getting younger, I know," assented Mrs. Chalk. "But if you think that that's any excuse for your goings on, you're mistaken."
Mr. Chalk murmured something to the effect that he did not understand her.
"You understand well enough," was the reply. "When that girl came whistling over the fence last night you said you thought it was a bird."
"I did," said Mr. Chalk, hastily taking a spoonful of egg.
Mrs. Chalk's face flamed. "What sort of bird?" she demanded.