’ ‘Yes, but when I think about this, I do not think I can do so,’ she said candidly. But you! Why the devil did you marry her? That's the thing that confounds me. My mind is full of ideas and images that I have been cherishing and accumulating—dreams of travelling side by side, of lunching quietly together in some jolly restaurant, of moonlight and music and all that side of life, of seeing you dressed like a queen and shining in some brilliant throng—mine; of your looking at flowers in some old-world garden, our garden—there are splendid places to be got down in Surrey, and a little runabout motor is quite within my means. Stanley, produced a portrait from its hiding-place in the jewel-drawer under the mirror. She had never seen her sitting on tables nor heard her discussing theology, and had failed to observe that the graceful figure was a natural one and not due to ably chosen stays. Bird, the turner, to give him an order this evening. Petite build, like herself. ‘I thought it must be you,’ cried the woman.
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