ANTONIN [_carelessly_] A poor relation. The usual thing, an old maid, always at church. Awfully prim and proper, you know. [_Rather shamefaced_] In fact—I don’t mind telling _you_—she really works for her living. LIGNOL. Well, why not? There’s nothing dishonorable about that, is there? ANTONIN. I know. But still—She paints little Cupids and that kind of thing, on china. [_He laughs loudly_]. Enough to make you split! You don’t see it? The other day someone offered her some work far better paid than what she’s doing at present. She refused. Guess why. LIGNOL [_bored_] Why? ANTONIN [_giggling_] Because the woman who kept the shop was divorced. [_He laughs_]. But it is good to see you again, my dear chap. [_He claps Lignol on the shoulder_]. Awfully good. LIGNOL. I’ve enjoyed coming immensely. [_A pause_]. Your wife is charming. ANTONIN [_fatuously_] Not bad, eh! LIGNOL. And she’s clever, too. ANTONIN. Get out! LIGNOL. I’m quite serious. ANTONIN. Oh, yes, I dare say. I know all about _that_. No use denying it. Julie’s stupid. It was partly for that very reason I married her. LIGNOL. I don’t think so. She has read a lot. ANTONIN. Read! Oh, yes, she’s _read_! She reads everything she comes across. Before her marriage she read the proofs of everything her father printed. Here she has unearthed a lot of books left behind by an old fool M. Dupont bought the house from. She’s read them all. LIGNOL. But then— ANTONIN. But she doesn’t understand a word of what she reads. Not a word! The other day I looked at the author’s name on the book in her hand. It was Mill. You know, John Stuart Mill. LIGNOL [_nods_] Yes, I know. ANTONIN. So do I, by name. But I’ve never read him, thank goodness. No, I tell you Julie’s stupid. But she’s pretty and she knows how to put on her clothes. I knew what I was about when I married her. With a little instruction from me she’ll learn to manage the house well enough. And that’s all I ask of a woman. LIGNOL. Indeed. Well, my dear chap, if you imagine you’ve married a stupid woman you’re mistaken. ANTONIN. How do you know? LIGNOL. She and I have been talking while you were entertaining your inventor. ANTONIN. You got her to talk, did you? LIGNOL. Certainly. ANTONIN. Wonders will never cease. When we’re alone she never has a word to say. LIGNOL. And you? ANTONIN. I haven’t either. LIGNOL. That’s awkward. ANTONIN. I’m always afraid of putting my foot in it. The fact is I don’t understand Julie. LIGNOL. And you’ve been married five months. ANTONIN. Four months and a week over. But then I’m at business all the week. Every Saturday her parents and mine come down to spend Sunday with us. M. and Madame Dupont couldn’t get here in time for dinner tonight, but they’ll be here soon. When we are alone I try to find some subject of conversation, but I tell you it’s like walking on eggshells. Whew! And so— LIGNOL. Well? ANTONIN. And so I stop. And then I kiss her. LIGNOL. You’re tremendously in love with her.