"And do you know, my dear, it was one of the most remarkable cigars I ever smoked." Mrs.Gallilee laid down her pen, and eyed him with an annihilating frown.

In the extremity of his confusion Mr.Gallilee ventured nearer.

He felt the sinister fascination of the serpent in the expression of those awful eyebrows.
"How well you are looking! How amazingly well you are looking this morning!" He leered at his learned wife, and patted her shoulder! For the moment, Mrs.Gallilee was petrified.

At his time of life, was this fat and feeble creature approaching her with conjugal endearments?
At that early hour of the day, had his guilty lips tasted his favourite champagne, foaming in his well-beloved silver mug, over his much-admired lump of ice?
And was _this_ the result?
"Mr.Gallilee!" "Yes, my dear ?" "Sit down!" Mr.Gallilee sat down.
"Have you been to the club ?" Mr.Gallilee got up again.
"Sit down!" Mr.Gallilee sat down.

"I was about to say, my dear, that I'll show you over the club with the greatest pleasure--if that's what you mean." "If you are not a downright idiot," said Mrs.Gallilee, "understand this! Either say what you have to say, or--" she lifted her hand, and let it down on the writing-table with a slap that made the pens ring in the inkstand--"or, leave the room!" Mr.Gallilee lifted his hand, and searched in the breast-pocket of his coat.