He remembered the curious scornful anger of their voices, subdued so that only a few words reached him.

He remembered the cold loathing in their eyes.

And, above all, he remembered his impression that this sort of scene happened between them every other day, and would continue so to happen; and as he put on his overcoat and paid his bill he had asked himself, "Why in the name of decency do they go on living together ?" And now he thought, as he listened to the two players wrangling on the stage: "What 's the good of all this talk?
There's something here past words." The curtain came down upon the act, and he looked at the lady next him.
She was shrugging her shoulders at her husband, whose face was healthy and offended.
"I do dislike these unhealthy women," he was saying, but catching Shelton's eye he turned square in his seat and sniffed ironically.
The face of Shelton's friend beyond, composed, satirical as ever, was clothed with a mask of scornful curiosity, as if he had been listening to something that had displeased him not a little.

The goggle-eyed man was yawning.

Shelton turned to Halidome: "Can you stand this sort of thing ?" said he.
"No; I call that scene a bit too hot," replied his friend.
Shelton wriggled; he had meant to say it was not hot enough.
"I'll bet you anything," he said, "I know what's going to happen now.
You'll have that old ass--what's his name ?--lunching off cutlets and champagne to fortify himself--for a lecture to the wife.