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There is a difference between cold mutton and six courses, to say nothing of the savoury.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
It is a fine distinction, and in no way affects the validity of my argument.
GERALD [_smiling_].
You mean, of your statement.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Husbands are all alike. The ancient regarded his wife as a slave, the modern regards her as a cook.
GERALD.
Then they are _not_ alike.
MRS. SYLVESTER [_emphatically_].
A man thinks of nothing but his stomach.
GERALD.
That is another proposition.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
You're very argumentative to-day. I haven't seen you for six weeks, and you've come home in a nasty, horrid temper!
GERALD.
I have been working so hard.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Why is your face so brown?
GERALD.
Well, of course, I went out.
MRS. SYLVESTER [_takes his hand_].
And why are your hands blistered?
GERALD.
I had a few pulls on the river; and being out of training----
MRS. SYLVESTER [_innocently_].
Were you stroke?
[_Holding his hands._
GERALD.
Not always.
[_Bites his lip._
MRS. SYLVESTER.
On, then you weren't alone?
GERALD.
I met an old friend up the river.
MRS. SYLVESTER.
Now I understand why you didn't write to me.
[_Drops his hand and turns away pettishly._
GERALD.
About the book? [_She gives him a quick glance._] Oh, I had nothing to say, except that I was getting on all right. I've written the first chapter.
[_Produces MS._
MRS. SYLVESTER.
And I've written the last. [_Opening portfolio._] Connoting the results of our arguments.
GERALD.
But where are the arguments?
MRS. SYLVESTER.
We'll put those in afterwards. [_GERALD looks at her._] That's how Victoria always writes her novels. She begins at the end.
GERALD.
But this is a work of philosophy.
MRS. SYLVESTER [_pouting_].
