"Right now? Why, it's entirely too early. It's only half-past seven. You can stay here until ten, then go for a few minutes and be back by eleven." "No, no, that would not be nice. That's not the way to treat people who have gone to the expense of giving a dance. Everybody should go early and stay late." "Oh, absurd." "No, it's decent. I think I had better go early anyway, and then I can get back earlier. I don't want to stay up too late." "Well, if you insist, go on." Tom went upstairs and began dressing hurriedly. He knew he would not feel safe until he was a square away from the house. If this was to be the last of these bully, bachelor, poker parties he did not want to miss it. His wife was the sweetest little woman on earth, and he delighted in being with her, and humoring her, but then a woman's view of life and things is often so different that there is a joyous relaxation in a man party. If he could dress and get away before his wife changed her mind all would be well. He put his clothes on feverishly, but before he had half finished he heard her running up the stairs, and his heart sank. She came with the step that indicated something important on her mind. He knew as well how she looked as if he could see her coming. She was humped over slightly, her head was down, both hands grasping her skirts in front, and her feet fairly glimmering at the speed she was coming. She burst into the room. "Tom, I think I will go with you. It is mean of me to make you go alone." "You think what? You can't, it's a men's party. Oh, you--'Y, no, it's not mean. I don't mind it a bit. I like to go alone--that is, I don't mind it, and I won't hear to your putting yourself out on my account. And then you know, Mrs. Tad-Wallington wears her dresses so disgustingly low." "That's it, Tom. That's why I think I ought to go." "Oh, pshaw. You know I despise her. I never dance with her. No, I can't think of letting you go on my account. And I don't want my wife even to be seen at the party of a woman who wears such dresses as she does. No! positively, I can't permit it." "Well, it's as bad for you to go." "But one of us has to go to be decent. It would be rude not to, and we can not afford to be rude even to the commonest people." "I don't want you to go unless I go with you," she said pettishly. "But I never dance with her." "It is not that so much. I do not want us to recognize her at all." "I am not going to even _speak_ to her. I will snub her. I will walk by her and not see her. I will let her know that my little wife doesn't belong to her class. I'll show her." "But, Tom, wouldn't that be ruder than not going at all?" "Oh, no. I don't think so. By going and snubbing her, it shows that you are conforming to all the _laws_ of politeness without conceding anything to wanton impropriety. Don't you see?" "Hardly." "Well, it does. And I have to go for business reasons. I have her husband's law business, and can't afford to lose it by not going."