Adolphus
Goodbody, a worthy young man deeply attached to his wife, feels
nevertheless that the dinners she is inflicting upon him are
threatening with permanent damage his digestive system. He
determines, come what may, to insist upon a change. Elvira Goodbody,
a charming girl, admiring and devoted to her husband, is
notwithstanding a trifle en tete, especially when her domestic
arrangements happen to be the theme of discussion. Adolphus, his
courage screwed to the sticking-point, broaches the difficult
subject; and for the first half of the act my aim was to picture the
progress of the human quarrel, not as it should be, but as it is.
They never reach the cook. The first mention of the word "dinner"
reminds Elvira (quick to perceive that argument is brewing, and alive
to the advantage of getting in first) that twice the month before he
had dined out, not returning till the small hours of the morning.
What she wants to know is where this sort of thing is going to end?
If the purpose of Freemasonry is the ruin of the home and the
desertion of women, then all she has to say--it turns out to be quite
a good deal. Adolphus, when able to get in a word, suggests that
eleven o'clock at the latest can hardly be described as the "small
hours of the morning": the fault with women is that they never will
confine themselves to the simple truth. From that point onwards, as
can be imagined, the scene almost wrote itself.
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