They were married (not really, but in the play, I mean), and I guess it was some more of that incompatibility stuff.

Anyhow, as they began to talk more and more, Mother began to fidget, and pretty soon I saw she was gathering up our things; and the minute the curtain went down after the first act, she says: "Come, dear, we're going home.

It--it isn't very warm here." As if I didn't know what she was really leaving for! Do old folks honestly think they are fooling us all the time, I wonder?
But even if I hadn't known then, I'd have known it later, for that evening I heard Mother and Aunt Hattie talking in the library.
No, I didn't listen.

I _heard_.

And that's a very different matter.
You listen when you mean to, and that's sneaking.