Letitia's lack of exuberance was rather depressing. A month ago she would have hailed the prospect with joy, and an ebullition of girlish delight. At present, she was apathetic. "Oh," she replied in a preoccupied manner, "I have no particular choice." But suddenly she brightened up, and went on: "Yes, I have, Archie. Somebody told me that _Merely Mary Arm_ was absolutely charming. It is the story of a little servant girl, a drudge in a lodging-house, a pathetic figure, that--" "No, dear," I said peremptorily, "we get all the servant girl we need in this cunning little home. I don't see why we should pay four dollars to see Mr. Zangwill's English idea--idealized, of course, for the stage. It would be cheaper to stay at home and weep over the real American thing." "But perhaps," said Letitia thoughtfully, "if we could really feel sorry for Mary Ann, we might be less harshly disposed toward Anna Carter, or Mrs. Potzenheimer, or Mrs. McCaffrey." "No, my dear," I murmured sadly, "it would be waste of time. I decline to see _Merely Mary Arm_. The subject is disgusting to me. We want to get away from ourselves when we go to the theater. We don't want to reopen wounds, and brood." "But in this Zangwill play," she persisted, "Mary Ann inherits five million dollars, and becomes a society girl, in pink chiffon and low-neck." "Which is immoral," I declared. "It is a nasty, low, and revolutionary idea--enough to make all cooks anarchists. Such plays should be prohibited by a censor. Positively to make a heroine of one of these creatures, who break up happy homes and make life unendurable, who seem to be responsible for everything, from race-suicide to--" "Hush, Archie!" cried Letitia indignantly, "I can't discuss these social questions with you. I haven't been married long enough. I still consider them improper. Besides, you can't accuse Mrs. McCaffrey of race-suicide, with little Letitia--" "Oh, they reserve the right to have as many children as they like," I retorted bitterly, "but if _you_ had them, they would soon let you know what they thought of you." "You mustn't talk to me like this, Archie," said Letitia, vexed, "you wouldn't have done so when we were engaged. I consider such conversation rowdy--just fit for the smoking-room. And as we haven't a smoking-room you must restrain yourself, please. However, I am willing to drop _Merely Mary Arm_. The reason I suggested it was that I thought it might make us both kinder and more indulgent." "Imagine old Potzenheimer with five million dollars, and low-neck!" I exclaimed, outraged. "I call it absolutely nauseating." "Not if we _could_ imagine it, dear," she said gently. "Zangwill is an artist, and I hoped that if we saw the subject poetically treated, and really shed tears for Mary Ann, as Aunt Julia wrote me yesterday that she did--"