"You've told me lots of times that I was perfect," she cried. "I don't
see why you want to change me now. You're so inconsistent, Dick."
"I wish that I could make up for my brutality," said Dick. "How can I,
Lena? I feel like the fellow that threw a catsup bottle at his wife's
head at the breakfast-table and then felt so badly when he saw the nasty
stuff trickling down her pretty curls that he brought her home a pair of
diamond earrings for dinner."
"What a horrid vulgar story!" exclaimed Lena.
"Isn't it?" Dick rejoined. "But vulgar things are frequently true, as
we learn with sorrow. Lena, can't we believe that our marriage
certificate had an affection insurance policy given with it? Don't let
us indulge in little quarrels. As you say, they are vulgar. I want love
to be not only a rich solid pudding full of plums, but I want it to have
a meringue on top."
As he hoped, this made Lena laugh, and she pulled out her over-scented
handkerchief to wipe her eyes. Dick shut his lips tightly, grown too
wise to speak.