Volume IX Part 21 (1/2)
”Oh, but you look sick.”
”I am not; I am--I never was so well. See how strong I am. I can crush that piece of paper up into a very small ball with my bare hands. I am awfully strong.”
”Oh, don't do that. There may be something in it that I want to read.”
”No, there isn't. There's nothing in it. I read it through. I have an idea. I'll tell you what let's do. Let's burn the paper and I'll tell you what the women wore. These society notes are written beforehand and are not authentic. The only way is to have it from an eye-witness.
Let's do it, will you?”
”No, I would rather read it. Aren't you sick, Tom? What makes your brow so damp?”
”It's so hot, it's infernally hot in here.”
”I thought it was rather cold. I saw you s.h.i.+ver a moment ago. Tom, you _are_ sick. You must have eaten too much salad last night. You know you can't eat salad.”
”I didn't touch any salad. I only ate a frankfurter and drank a high-ball--”
”A frankfurter and a high-ball! Why, what sort of refreshments did they have?”
”I didn't mean that. I meant a canary-bird sandwich and a gla.s.s of water.”
”I know what it is then, Tom. You inhaled a lot of the smoke.”
Tom took a long hard look at his wife. ”What!” he almost screamed at last.
”I say you have inhaled too much smoke. You have been smoking too much.”
”Oh, that. Yes, I expect I have.”
She looked at him with a twinkle in her eye as she sat on the arm of his chair, holding to the back with her hands.
”Tom, I'll bet you are a great hero.”
”I'll bet I'm not.”
”I'll bet you are, and are too modest to admit it.”
”Too modest to admit what?”
”Too modest to admit the heroic things you have done.”
”I never did any.”
”Yes, you did. I know you saved two or three people's lives at the risk of your own.”
”I haven't any medals.”
”But you must have done something brave, and that's why you didn't tell me about the explosion.”