"I want to rise," returned Lida, "to my father-in-law's expectations of me."
"Put on a sleeved dress," said Jay. "I'm going as I am."
"To the opera?" inquired Lida.
"Is father taking us to the opera?"
"'Mr. Metten has bought a nice box at the opera; for six people,'" replied Lida and again Jay recognized a quotation, this time in imitation of Mrs. Philip Metten's best diction. "'He got it to-day for to-night. It is a good opera, with four fine singers.' She asked us also to dinner," Lida slipped into her own speech. "I told her dinner was impossible."
"So is the opera," said Jay, a little impatiently.
"Is it?" inquired his wife, innocently. "I didn't know at what time one retired after six-thirty dinner."
Jay took no offense; the jeer was, too clearly, a bit of protective armor for Lida against his father's opinion of her.
"By the way, my pay was fixed to-day," he said and waited for his wife to ask its figure; but Lida confessed not the slightest curiosity. So he told her: "It's fifty a week."
"Cents?" inquired Lida.
Jay looked at her and smiled. "I'm going to take a shot at living on it; but I'm not supposing you will."
"I?" repeated Lida. "I?"
"Your money," said Jay, "of course is yours to spend on yourself; but I can't spend it. We've got to agree on that. We can take diggings somewhere where I can manage the rent; I'll handle my personal expenses and also whatever we do together."
