MR. CHAFFERY AT HOME
what have you got to say for yourselves in this remarkable affair?"
"You had a letter," said Lewisham.
"I had a letter of excuses—the personalities I overlook. . . Yes, sir—they were excuses. You young people wanted to marry-and you seized an occasion. You did not even refer to the fact that you wanted to marry in your letter. Pure modesty! But now you have come here married. It disorganises this household, it inflicts endless bother on people, but never you mind that! I'm not blaming you. Nature's to blame! Neither of you know what you are in for yet. You will. You're married and that is the great essential thing. . . . (Ethel, my dear, just put your husband's hat and stick behind the door.) And you, sir, are so good as to disapprove of the way in which I earn my living?"
"Well," said Lewisham. "Yes—I'm bound to say I do."
"You are really not bound to say it. The modesty of inexperience would excuse you."
"Yes, but it isn't right—it isn't straight."
"Dogma," said Chaffery. "Dogma!"
"What do you mean by dogma?" asked Lewisham.
"I mean, dogma. But we must argue this out in comfort. It is our supper hour, and I'm not the man to fight against accomplished facts. We have intermarried. There it is. You must stop to supper—and you and I must thresh these things out. We've involved ourselves with each other and we've got to make the best of it. Your wife and mine will spread the board, and we will go on talking. Why
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