Forrester in a deeper tone, trying not to show that her feelings were hurt.
“We have been married for thirty-five years, my dear. It’s a very long time, isn’t it? You're a good woman in your own way1, but not suitable for me. You’re literary and I’m not. You’re artistic and I’m not.”
“But all this time I’ve been doing everything in my power to interest you in art and literature,” said Mrs Forrester.
“That’s true, and I can only blame myself if I didn’t react properly. But 1 don’t like the books you write. And I don’t like the people who surround you. Let me tell you a secret, my dear. At your parties I often very much wanted to take off my clothes just to see what would happen."
“Aren’t you ashamed of yourself, Albert?" asked Mrs Bullfinch. “You haven’t got the right figure for that at all!” “Mrs Bullfinch wants me to retire,” Albert continued. “I discussed the matter with my partners today, and they agree to settle everything nicely. They will buy me out2, and I shall have an income of just under nine hundred pounds. There are three of us, so it gives us nearly three hundred a year each.” “How am I to live on that?” cried Mrs Forrester, using the last argument she could think of.
“You have a wonderful pen, my dear."
“You know very well that my books don’t bring me any money. The publishers always say that they lose by them.” And just then Mrs Bullfinch suddenly asked:
“Why don’t you write a good detective story?”
Mrs Forrester burst out laughing. “Me?” she exclaimed. “What a wild idea! I could never hope to please the masses and I have never read a detective story in my life.”
“It’s not a bad idea at all,” said Albert.
“I love a detective.story,” said Mrs Bullfinch, “Give me a lady in evening dress lying dead on the library floor and I know I’m going to enjoy <t.”
“Personally, I prefer a respectable gentleman with a gold watch chain, lying dead in Hyde Park,’’ said Albert. “There’s something particularly interesting to the reader in the murder of a respectable gentleman!"
“I see exactly what you mean,” said Mrs Bullfinch. “He knew an important secret, and his murderers had said they would kill him unless he kept his mouth shut. He just didn't manage to run away from them.”
“We can give you all the advice you need, my dear," said Albert, smiling kindly at Mrs Forrester. “I’ve read hundreds of detective stories.”