You seem to forget that I am married, and the one charm of marriage is that it makes a life of deception necessary for both parties. I never know where my wife is, and my wife never knows what I am doing. When we meet, – we do meet occasionally, when we dine out together, or go down to the duke's, – we tell each other the most absurd stories with the most serious faces. My wife is very good at it, – much better, in fact, than I am. She never gets confused over her dates, and I always do. But when she does find me out, she makes no row at all. I sometimes wish she would; but she merely laughs
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