"Where was the real girl?"
"With her grandfather."
"Where was the grandfather?"
"What does that matter?" he replied; "I will tell you afterward."
"When did the real girl die?"
"That, too, I will tell you afterward."
Lotty leaned her cheek upon her hand, and looked at her husband thoughtfully.
"Let us be plain, Joe."
"You can never be plain, my dear," he replied with the smile of a lover, not a husband; "never in your husband's eyes; not even in tights."