"I'll tell you one thing I shall do," said Mrs. Prohack in a decided tone as Mr. Prohack left the table. "I shall countermand Sissie'a new frock."
"If you do I shall divorce you," was the reply.
Mr. Prohack answered:
"In 1917 I saw that girl in dirty overalls driving a thundering great van down Whitehall. Yesterday I met her in her foolish high heels and her shocking openwork stockings and her negligible dress and her exposed throat and her fur stole, and she was so delicious and so absurd and so futile and so sure of her power that--that--well, you aren't going to countermand any new frock. That chit has the right to ruin me--not because of anything she's done, but because