'All right.'

'Yes, you admire every woman's writing but your wife's.'

'Don't be silly, dear. See, I don't feel very well this morning. I don't
want to be angry.'

'Angry! Be angry; what does it matter to me? Be as angry as you like. I
wish I had never seen you.'

'Somewhat of a _non sequitur_, is it not, my love?'

'Don't "my love" me. With your nasty cool sarcasm!'

'Isn't it better to try and keep cool rather than to fly into a temper
about nothing? See, I know you are a little nervous this morning. Let us
be friends before I go.'

'I have no wish to be friends.'

'Dora!'

William would then lace his boots, and don his coat in silence, before
making a final effort at reconciliation.

'Well, dear, good-bye. Perhaps you will love me again by the time I get
home.'

'Perhaps I shan't be here when you come home.'