But you are scientific, too.

You have a laboratory, and have much to do--with retorts." "No, you are thinking of my husband.

The laboratory is his." "But the retorts are yours." "The precipitations are his." "Ah, well, at least you help him to fuse the constituents!...

But now, be quite confidential to an old man who has experimented too.

Is your husband really an amateur scientist, or is he a scientific amateur?
Is it a pose or a taste?
I fiddled once--and wrote sonnets; one was a pose, the other a taste." It was mere persiflage, but it was a jest which made an unintended wound.