to ask; but it would be a real kindness to us both.

HE. What can I do?

HER HUSBAND [taking up the poems] Well, may I get these printed?
It shall be done in the best style. The finest paper, sumptuous
binding, everything first class. They're beautiful poems. I
should like to show them about a bit.

SHE [running back from the bell, delighted with the idea, and
coming between them] Oh Henry, if you wouldn't mind!

HE. Oh, I don't mind. I am past minding anything. I have grown
too fast this evening.

SHE. How old are you, Henry?

HE. This morning I was eighteen. Now I am--confound it! I'm
quoting that beast of a play [he takes the Candida tickets out of
his pocket and tears them up viciously].

HER HUSBAND. What shall we call the volume? To Aurora, or
something like that, eh?

HE. I should call it How He Lied to Her Husband.