Page:Confessions of a wife (IA confessionsofwif00adamiala).pdf/128

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CONFESSIONS OF A WIFE

the office, for I could not, could not, bear it. This is the veracious record of our interview:

He: Oh! That you, Marna? Glad to hear from you. What a lovely telephone voice you have! Well, what is it?

I: I have felt so unhappy, Dear, all the morning! I thought—perhaps—

He: Unhappy? What in thunder for?

I: Why, of course, Dana, you know—

He: I have no more idea what you are talking about than you have of the English common law. Do be quick, Marna! I'm busy.

I: Oh, have you forgotten that you went off without—without—

He: I went off without my handkerchief, if that's what you mean.

I: Dana!

He: Marna! Go find it, Dear, and dry the tears out of your voice. Good-by. Oh, by the way. I tell you I'm busy. Don't wait dinner for me if I'm not home on time. I am rushed to death to-day. Good-by.

I: But, Dana dear—

He: But, Marna dear! Don't bother me. Good-by.

I am thinking of an old French saying: Elle en meurt; il en rit. Once, to think of it—to think of it, I mean, in a way that could possibly have

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