Now, as I've mentioned, I'm married to Doris. And I have, I know, the best wife in the world. Certainly the most interesting.
Some of the family friends, who know the facts, feel there is something fundamentally wrong with my wife.
There is not; and there never was anything wrong—except counterfeiting.
She doesn't admit that was wrong. She concedes that now that she's married to me there is no actual occasion for anyone in the family engraving a steel plate but she makes this concession in a way which suggests that, should occasion ever arise, she will not be without recourse as a breadwinner.
The interesting part, for me, is I don't know how much she means it. So I'm playing that bean business safe to keep the occasions down below and quite out of her reach.
If one ever blows the lid off, I'll tell you.
THE END
