He thought
of several things he might say, but he argued that it was an
impossible situation where a man had to make conversation with his own
wife.
The clock struck ten as he sat waiting, and he moved uneasily in his
chair.
"What is it?" asked the Picture; "what makes you so restless?"
Stuart regarded the Picture timidly for a moment before he spoke. "I
was just thinking," he said, doubtfully, "that we might run down after
all, and take a look in at the last act; it's not too late even now.
They're sure to run behind on the first night. And then," he urged,
"we can go around and see Seldon. You have never been behind the
scenes, have you? It's very interesting."
"No, I have not; but if we do," remonstrated the Picture,
pathetically, "you _know_ all those men will come trooping home
with us. You know they will."
"But that's very complimentary," said Stuart. "Why, I like my friends
to like my wife."
"Yes, but you know how they stay when they get here," she answered; "I
don't believe they ever sleep. Don't you remember the last supper you
gave me before we were married, when Mrs. Starr and you all were
discussing Mr. Seldon's play? She didn't make a move to go until
half-past two, and I was _that_ sleepy I couldn't keep my eyes
open."
"Yes," said Stuart, "I remember. I'm sorry. I thought it was very
interesting. Seldon changed the whole second act on account of what
she said. Well, after this," he laughed with cheerful desperation, "I
think I shall make up for the part of a married man in a pair of
slippers and a dressing-gown, and then perhaps I won't be tempted to
roam abroad at night.
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