didn't understand, but for his dancing and in order to get away from home.
Conceive then the surprise, not to say the chagrin it occasioned her to find that Dunkle was working again. She came down one afternoon, arrayed for Ranlingham (where the finals of the Naval and Military Pogo Races were to be jumped), and to her extreme annoyance did not find her husband ready in the hall. She screamed his name, but still be failed to appear. In twenty strides she was at the door of the room which was known (humorously) as The Study. She wrenched at its handle. The door was locked. "Bisham," she shrieked, "I'm waiting for you."
The door opened about two inches and Dunkle's nose became visible. "Go away," he said, "I'm working."
"Working!" she echoed. "What the devil do you mean, working?"
