"When we're married. You have no idea how irritating you are, darling."

"Irritating? Oh dear, Frank, I'm so sorry. Do forgive me. Perhaps it is rather bad taste, but I say it to cheer you up, to remind you you have something to look forward to. Do you see?"

She looked at him sweetly, but he would not meet her eyes.

"Perhaps you're _not_ looking forward to it?" she said in a piqued voice.

"Sylvia, would you mind going away?"

"Oh, all right. Very well. I won't disturb you any more. It's very sweet and conscientious of you to bother about the papers. I'll go. Shan't you want me always with you when we're married?"

"Never!" he answered. "At least, not if I have any other occupation."

Her eyes brightened.

"Oh! then it isn't that I worry you, but I sort of distract your attention. Is that it?"

He made no answer.

"I'm afraid," said Sylvia sadly, "that we shall quarrel dreadfully."

"Quarrel? Rot!" said Woodville. "We shall _never_ quarrel. You'll do exactly what I tell you--and I shall devote myself to doing everything for your good."

"If I thought you meant anything as dull as that I should break it off at once," said Sylvia. "The programme doesn't sound attractive."

He laughed. "How do you think it ought to be then?"

"There'll be only one will between us," said Sylvia, "that is to say, you'll do everything I want always, Frank. Do you hear? Won't you answer? Well, I see you're in a bad temper." She got up. "Good-bye." She held out her hand. "I shall hardly see you again all day, and Frank----I see you don't want to kiss me once before I go."

"Oh, you see that, do you?"

"Of course, I think you're an ideal man and a darling in every way, and I love you very much, but I think it's a pity you're so cold and heartless." She came nearer to him.

"Don't say that again," he said, with a rather dangerous look.

"But you are! You're absolutely cold. I think you only love me as a duty."

At this Woodville seemed to lose his head. He seized her in his arms and kissed her roughly and at random, holding her close to him.

"Oh don't, Frank. How can you be so horrid? You're making my hair untidy. Oh, Frank!"

When he at last released her, he walked to the window and looked out.

She went to the looking-gla.s.s with tears in her eyes, and arranged her hair.

"I didn't think," she said reproachfully, "that you could behave like that, Frank!"

He made no reply.

As she stood at the door she said, pouting, "You didn't seem to care whether _I_ liked it or not."

"And I didn't!" said Woodville. "I wasn't thinking about what you'd like."

"And--shan't you ever think about what I'd like?"

"Oh, I shall think a great deal about what you'd like," said Woodville, "and I shall see that you like it. But that will be different. I don't apologise; you brought it on yourself."

"I'll try to forgive you," said Sylvia. "But now, I really _have_ a headache."

"Take some aspirin," said Woodville.

"How peculiar you are! Then I'm not to come in to-morrow morning?"

"Do as you like; you know what to expect."

"Why, you don't mean to say you would behave like that _again_?"

"I shall make it a rule," he answered.

"It's unkind of you to say that, because now you know I _can't_ come."

"This sort of thing is becoming impossible," said Woodville. "You make it worse for me."

"I'm sorry," she said gently. "I a.s.sure you it wasn't what I wanted, really."

"I dare say not. But you don't understand."

"Will you promise never to break the compact again?" said Sylvia, looking up at him sweetly.

"Will you go?" he answered in a low voice.

This time she went.

CHAPTER XXVI

VERA'S ADVENTURE

Mrs. Ogilvie stopped at Hatchards' and fluttered in her usual vague way to the bookshop.

"I want some serious books," she said. "Something about Life or Philosophy or anything of that kind."

The young man said he understood exactly what she meant, and produced a new book by Hichens.

"But that's a novel! I want a real philosophical work."