"Improvement? Let me tell you, then. You've brought it on yourself. I warned you." He laughed. "I'll tell you about last night. Last night we had Sir Henry Boyle-Stevens to dinner, and Mr. Stedman. About halfway through dinner Sir Henry said to Louise, but looking at me and smiling, 'It's a great comfort to me to be working with your husband. He is untiring and dependable.' Old Sir Henry does like me, and we've always got on together like anything. Would you like to hear what Louise said in reply? Would you? Very well. She said—I will give you her exact words and their emphasis—'I suppose Eric is dependable, politically.' 'I suppose,' you observe, and then the accent on 'politically.' Sir Henry looked quickly at her, and then at me, and changed the subject. She meant me to hear. Then the next thing. After dinner the Lewis Pringles came in. We were still in the dining room—the men, I mean—and when we joined the rest in the drawing-room Louise greeted me with these words—for my ears alone—'You needn't have hurried, Eric. I was just enjoying hearing my own voice for a change.' You ask me if there's any improvement! What am I to do? We can't go on like this much longer."
"No. And I don't think you ought to."
