Twilight Sleep
as his professional authority grew he had become more jealous of interference with it. His wife ought at least to have understood that! If her famous tact were going to fail her, what would be left, he asked himself?
"Look here, Pauline, you know all this is useless. In professional matters no one else can judge for me. I'm busy this afternoon; I'm sure you are too—"
She settled more deeply into her armchair. "Never too busy for you, Dexter."
"Thank you, dear. But the time I ask you to give me is outside of business hours," he rejoined with a slight smile.
"Then I'm dismissed?" She smiled back. "I understand; you needn't ring!" She rose with recovered serenity and laid a light hand on his shoulder. "Sorry to have bothered you; I don't often, do I? All I ask is that you should think over—"
He lifted the hand to his lips. "Of course, of course." Now that she was going he could say it.
"I'm forgiven?"
He smiled: "You're forgiven;" and from the threshold she called, almost gaily: "Don't forget tonight—Amalasuntha!"
His brow clouded as he returned to his chair; and oddly enough—he was aware of the oddness— it was clouded not by the tiresome scene he had been through, but by his wife's reminder. "Damn that dinner," he swore to himself.
