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_].