those twins did not hurry up and get their teeth quickly, he should
have to go away and join the County Council. He could not stand the
racket.

His wife said she could not see what he had to complain of. She was
sure better-hearted children no man could have.

Our friend said he didn't care a straw about their hearts. It was
their legs and arms and lungs that were driving him crazy.

He also said that he would go out with us and get away from it for a
bit, or he should go mad.

He proposed a theater, and we accordingly made our way toward the
Strand. Our friend, in closing the door behind him, said he could not
tell us what a relief it was to get away from those children. He said
he loved children very much indeed, but that it was a mistake to have
too much of anything, however much you liked it, and that he had come
to the conclusion that twenty-two hours a day of them was enough for
any one.

He said he did not want to see another child or hear another child
until he got home. He wanted to forget that there were such things as
children in the world.

We got up to the Strand and dropped into the first theater we came to.
The curtain went up, and on the stage was a small child standing in
its nightshirt and screaming for its mother.

Our friend looked, said one word and bolted, and we followed.