"What was she reading?" said Sophia.
"Some new novel: I forget the title, but," he added, "the cover was green!"
"What was it about?"
He grabbed at the opportunity to amuse her, and detailed the plot with elaborate care—drawing however rather from his imagination than his memory. The result was an adaptation of "Red Cotton Nightcap Country," "Wilhelm Meister," and "Gil Blas." He might have made some fame as a novelist.
When he had finished, Sophia coughed. "How well you remember it," she said; "you must have listened very attentively!"
Then, remarking that she felt better, she left him. He heard her singing "I know that my Redeemer liveth" as she went up the stairs, and rejoiced that he had cured her headache, and could resume his fugue.
So little do men know their wives.
