"Of course, you ought to know. I was under the impression that
she'd been married once or twice at least."

"Three times, to be mathematically exact. I meant that it was the
first time she'd thought about getting married; the other times
she did it without thinking. As a matter of fact, it's really I
who am doing the thinking for her in this case. You see, it's
quite two years since her last husband died."

"You evidently think that brevity is the soul of widowhood."

"Well, it struck me that she was getting moped, and beginning to
settle down, which wouldn't suit her a bit. The first symptom
that I noticed was when she began to complain that we were living
beyond our income. All decent people live beyond their incomes
nowadays, and those who aren't respectable live beyond other
peoples. A few gifted individuals manage to do both."

"It's hardly so much a gift as an industry."

"The crisis came," returned Clovis, "when she suddenly started the
theory that late hours were bad for one, and wanted me to be in by
one o'clock every night. Imagine that sort of thing for me, who
was eighteen on my last birthday."

"On your last two birthdays, to be mathematically exact."

"Oh, well, that's not my fault. I'm not going to arrive at
nineteen as long as my mother remains at thirty-seven. One must
have some regard for appearances."