[_Reads._] Gown of white cloth with Postillion coat of Rose du Barri silk, motifs of silver, forty-five guineas----

_Dolly._ You won't grumble at that, for when I first put it on, you stood and looked at me and said, "I want to know how it is, Doll, that the moment a dress gets on to your shoulders, it seems to brisk up, and be as c.o.c.ky and proud of itself----"

[_Again attempting to embrace him._

_Harry._ [_Again repulsing her._] Yes, well now I do know! Jolly proud and c.o.c.ky your dresses ought to feel at this price! [_Reads._] "Evening cloak of strawberry satin charmeuse, trimmed silk pa.s.s.e.m.e.nterie, motifs and fringed stoles of dull gold embroidery, thirty-five guineas." What's a motif?

_Dolly._ It's a tr.i.m.m.i.n.g--a lot of little touches--a sort of--a--a--a--[_making a little descriptive gesture_] a suggestion--a motif----

_Harry._ And Mr. John Spearman's motif is that I should pay him five hundred and fifty-six pounds. Well, I don't like Mr. John Spearman's motifs, and I'm not going to fall in with them. [_Puts the bill on the table rather angrily, takes up another, reads._] "Artistic lingerie!" I wonder why all these people call themselves artists! "Underwear of daintiness and distinction."

_Dolly._ Well, you've always praised----

_Harry._ Yes. In future, I'm going to be very careful what articles of your dress I praise. "Three pairs of blue silk garters, forty-five shillings." [_She has settled herself in the armchair, looking a little sulky and obstinate, leaning back and pettishly swinging one leg over the other._] What have you got to say to that?

_Dolly._ Garters are necessary.

_Harry._ Yes, but why three? And why blue silk? Why don't you speak?

_Dolly._ The garters can speak for themselves!

_Harry._ Very well. Garters that can speak for themselves can pay for themselves! [_Dashes the bill on the table, takes up another. Reading._]

Three bottles coeur de Janette--three bottles Souffle de Marguerite--fifteen pounds for scent--and I have to smoke sixpenny cigars! And sometimes only fourpenny!

_Dolly._ Well, if you will smoke those horrid strong things you can't wonder I have to disinfect the house for you.

_Harry._ Disinfect the house _for_ me! You'll very soon disinfect the house _of_ me! [_Glances through the remaining bills, groans, puts them on the table, and walks about in despair._ DOLLY _rises and is going off._] Where are you going?

_Dolly._ To bed.

_Harry._ [_Stopping her._] No! Now we've begun, we'll go through to the bitter end, if you please. I want you to explain----

_Dolly._ My dear Harry, it will be quite useless for me to try to explain in your present state----

_Harry._ [_Getting furious._] In my present state----

_Dolly._ Dancing about the room and shouting!----

_Harry._ I'm not shouting!

_Dolly._ You're not shouting?!

_Harry._ No, and if I am, isn't it enough to make a man shout when his wife----

MATT _appears at the door in his dressing-gown and slippers._

_Matt._ Excuse my interrupting. But you know my room is just above this, and if you could manage to pitch your voices in rather a softer key----

_Harry._ By Jove, I'd forgotten! We were getting a little noisy. I'm awfully sorry.

_Matt._ Don't mention it! The Professor gave me rather a stiff go of his Pableine, and I fancy it hasn't agreed with me [_tapping his chest_] for I can't get a wink of sleep. Is there a spoonful of whiskey about?

_Harry._ On the sideboard in the dining-room.

_Matt._ Thankee. [_Tapping his chest._] Harry, when you get over fifty, don't change your nightcap, or any of your other bad habits.

_Harry._ I won't. Now, Dolly----

_Matt._ [_Anxiously._] You won't perhaps be very long now?

_Dolly._ No, we'd nearly finished----

_Matt._ Nothing serious, I hope?

_Dolly._ Harry doesn't approve of my using scent.

_Harry._ Not in pailfuls. Certainly not.

_Dolly._ I had three small bottles----

_Matt._ Montaigne says that the sweetest perfume a woman can have, is to have none at all. [_Exit._

_Harry._ Now, my darling, we shall best arrive at an understanding if we avoid all temper, and discuss it in a calm, business-like way.

_Dolly._ [_A little frightened._] Ye-es----

_Harry._ Very well then, bring up your chair, and let us go into it, figure by figure, item by item, and see how we stand.

_Dolly._ Ye-es. [_Bringing a chair a little way._] Harry, you aren't going to be as business-like as all that?

_Harry._ As all what?

_Dolly._ I can't discuss it while you keep me at a distance! [_Suddenly rushes at him, seats herself on his knee, puts his arm round her waist, kisses him._] There! now I feel I can discuss it thoroughly.

_Harry._ Very well [_kisses her_], so long as we do discuss it thoroughly.

_Dolly._ I began to get quite frightened of you, Mr. Jobling.

_Harry._ Jobling?

_Dolly._ The man Mr. Pilcher had to get a money-box for, because he swore at his wife!

_Harry._ Oh, yes.

_Dolly._ You got so angry--and shouted----

_Harry._ Well, there was no reason for that, especially as getting out of temper is _the_ one thing I'm quite resolved to conquer this New Year----

_Dolly._ [_Kissing him._] Don't forget that!