“You propose, then,” she remarked, “that I shall still be saddled with a pseudo husband. Her voice seemed to come from a long way off. ’ She ended on a note of sheer frustration, clenched fists beating the air. Even WITH the Censorship of Plays there’s hardly a decent thing to which a man can take his wife and daughters, a creeping taint of suggestion everywhere. It’s these damned novels. She untucked his starched shirt, running her hands along his smooth torso and underneath his arms. “Well,” he said, argumentatively, “it IS. It is like a second honeymoon.
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