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possible. I was a bachelor at last! Everything had turned out exactly as I had planned it. Celibacy lay upon that scene like a caress. Suppose — suppose I had been married!
Married!
I spoke the word half-aloud, and somehow, in these surroundings, it was as incongruous as an icicle in June!
Married!
I put my feet upon the chair which faced me — not that I approve this practice, but simply to show my independence. A married man’s chairs are like the man himself — made only to be sat upon.
Married!
I re-lit my pipe. Should I have had to smoke it out on the front steps had things been otherwise? Ah, there are worse matches than the one I used!
Married!
I switched off all the incandescent bulbs — reflecting that married men are even more
