"I really don't know. I didn't think of it, I suppose. We'll go another day."

He sat down opposite her and began to smoke a cigarette, having permission always. She sat staring at him with clasped hands and eager eyes.

Bertha's description of her as having flat red hair, a receding chin and long ear-rings was impressionistically accurate. It was what one noticed most. Mrs. Hillier was plain, and not at all pleasant-looking, though she had a pretty figure, looked young, and might have been made something of if she had had charm. There was something eager, sharp and yet depressed about her, that might well be irritating.

She got up and came and stood next to Nigel; playing with his tie, a little trick which nearly drove him mad, but he was determined to hide it. When he couldn't bear it any longer he said: "That will do, dear."

She moved away.

"How do you mean 'that will do'?"

"Nothing; only don't fidget."

"You're nervous, Nigel. You are always telling me not to fidget."

"Am I? Sorry. Where are the children?"

"Never mind the children for a minute. They're out with Mademoiselle."

"Seen much of them to-day?"

"They came in to lunch. No, I have _not_, as a matter of fact. Do you expect me to spend my whole time with children of eight and nine?"

He didn't answer, but it was exactly what he really did expect, and would have thought perfectly natural and suitable.

"Some women," continued Mary, "seem to care a great deal more for their children than they do for their husbands. I'm _not_ like that--I don't pretend to be."

Nigel already knew this, to his great regret.

"I care more for you than I do for the children," she repeated.

"Yes."

"What do you mean by 'Yes'?"

"I was a.s.senting: that's all. I meant--that you've told me all this before, my dear. Haven't you?"

"Do you object? Do you _mind_ my caring more for you than for the children?"

"If I object to anything it's only to your repeating yourself. I mean--we've had all this; haven't we?"

"Nigel, are you trying to quarrel with me for loving you better than the children?"

Nigel turned pale with irritation but controlled himself and stood up and looked out of the window.

"Not in the least. It's most flattering. I only don't want to be told it every time I see you. ... I mean that of course I should think it perfectly natural if you were fond of the children too."

"I _am_ fond of them," she answered, "but they are not everything to me.

They don't fill up my whole time and all my thoughts. They won't do instead of you."

"No one suggested that, I think. Have you been for a drive to-day?"

"No--I haven't."

"What a funny woman you are, Mary! You might as well not have a motor for all the use you make of it."

"I had nowhere to go."

He looked at some invitation cards on the mantelpiece. "Oh, my dear, that's absolute nonsense. You mean you don't care to go anywhere. It _is_ extraordinary, how you drop people, Mary! When we first came to this house we had a lot of parties and things. Now you never seem to care for them."

"It's quite true," she answered. "We did have parties and things. They made me miserable. I hated them."

"Rather odd; aren't you?"

"I hated them and loathed them," she continued. "For it only meant there were crowds of women who tried to flirt with you."

"That's an _idee fixe_ of yours, my dear. Pure fancy, you know."

"Well; all I know is I hated to see you talking to the women who came here. I tell you, quite frankly, _that's_ the reason why I've given up accepting invitations and giving them. Of course, if you _insist_, I will. I would do anything you told me."

"Oh, good G.o.d, no! Let's cut out the parties, then. Don't have them for _me_! I thought it would be fun for you. ... What _do_ you do all day, Mary, if I may ask? You never seem to have any shopping--or hobbies--or anything that other women have to do."

"I do the housekeeping in the morning," she said; "I see cook and look after everything to make things as _you_ like."

"And I'm sure you do it very well indeed. But it doesn't take long; and after that----?"

"I sit in that chair looking out of the window for you."

He bit his lip impatiently, trying not to be irritable.

"It's very nice of you, Mary, I'm sure. But I do wish you wouldn't!"

"Why not? Don't you _like_ me to be waiting for you?"

"No--I don't. I should like to think you were enjoying yourself; having a good time."

"Well, I shouldn't do it if you took me out with you always."

"My dear, I'm always delighted to take you with me, but I can't take you everywhere."

"Where can't you take me?"

"Well--to the club!" He smiled, and took up a newspaper.

"I suppose you must go to your club sometimes," she said rather grudgingly. "But tell me, Nigel, would you like us to go in more for society again as we used at first?"

He thought a moment. There were more quarrels when they saw more people--in fact, the fewer people they met the fewer subjects arose for scenes.