But now, womanlike, she declares that the first suggestion, the root germ of the idea, came from her; that the "egging on" is merely the vain man's way of misdefining a woman's serene insistence; that she has given me, out of her intimate knowledge, all the facts of the story--although Jaffery Chayne and Adrian Boldero and poor Tom Castleton, and others involved in the imbroglio, counted themselves as my bosom cronies, while she, poor wretch (a man must get home somewhere), was in the nursery; and that, finally, if she had been taught English grammar and spelling at school, she would have dispensed entirely with my pedantic assistance and written the story herself.
Anyhow, man-like, I am broad minded enough to proclaim that it doesn't very much matter.

Man and wife are one.

She thinks they are one wife.

I know they are one husband.

Between speculation and knowledge why so futile a thing as a quarrel?
I proceed therefore to my originally self-appointed and fantastic task.
But on reflection, before beginning, I must honestly admit that if it had not been for Barbara I should write of these things with half-knowledge.