"That's nothing," Stuart interrupted, "they're all princesses when you
see them on Broadway."

"I beg your pardon," said the Picture.

"It's of no consequence," said Stuart, apologetically, "it's a comic
song. I forgot you didn't like comic songs. Well--go on."

"Oh, then I went to a tea, and then I stopped in to hear Madame Ruvier
read a paper on the Ethics of Ibsen, and she--"

Stuart's voice had died away gradually, and he caught himself wondering
whether he had told George to lay in a fresh supply of cigars. "I beg
your pardon," he said, briskly, "I was listening, but I was just
wondering whether I had any cigars left. You were saying that you had
been at Madame Ruvier's, and--"

"I am afraid that you were not interested," said the Picture. "Never
mind, it's my fault. Sometimes I think I ought to do things of more
interest, so that I should have something to talk to you about when you
come home."

Stuart wondered at what hour he would come home now that he was married.
As a bachelor he had been in the habit of stopping on his way up town
from the law office at the club, or to take tea at the houses of the
different girls he liked. Of course he could not do that now as a
married man. He would instead have to limit his calls to married women,
as all the other married men of his acquaintance did. But at the moment
he could not think of any attractive married women who would like his