"No," I said, "the thing is to be frank and manly. I shall tell
Ethelbertha that I have come to the conclusion a man never values
happiness that is always with him. I shall tell her that, for the sake
of learning to appreciate my own advantages as I know they should be
appreciated, I intend to tear myself away from her and the children for
at least three weeks. I shall tell her," I continued, turning to Harris,
"that it is you who have shown me my duty in this respect; that it is to
you we shall owe--"

Harris put down his glass rather hurriedly.

"If you don't mind, old man," he interrupted, "I'd really rather you
didn't. She'll talk it over with my wife, and--well, I should not be
happy, taking credit that I do not deserve."

"But you do deserve it," I insisted; "it was your suggestion."

"It was you gave me the idea," interrupted Harris again. "You know you
said it was a mistake for a man to get into a groove, and that unbroken
domesticity cloyed the brain."

"I was speaking generally," I explained.

"It struck me as very apt," said Harris. "I thought of repeating it to
Clara; she has a great opinion of your sense, I know. I am sure that
if--"

"We won't risk it," I interrupted, in my turn; "it is a delicate matter,
and I see a way out of it. We will say George suggested the idea."