There was a man in the hotel at Harwich with an ugly disagreeable woman
who I supposed was his wife. I did not care about him, but he began to
make up to me in the smoking-room.
“This divorce case,” said he, referring to one that was being reported in
the papers, “doesn’t seem to move very fast.”
I put on my sweetest smile and said: “I have not observed it. I am not
married myself, and naturally take less interest in divorce.”
He dropped me.