It was a little scene, this, out of a story or a play.

It didn't actually concern him.

It wasn't Nora who sat within a few feet of him, bending down over the chafing-dish and stirring its contents vigorously.
"Of course," she said, "I am perfectly well aware that this is an anti-climax.

I am perfectly well aware, too, that you will have a most uncomfortable dinner.

You won't know what to say to me and you'll be dying all the time to look in your calendar and see if this is leap year.