She began to put the cups and plates together for removal; but set her tray down suddenly and went into the comparative coolness of the parlor, closing the dining-room door behind her.
She was quite tired enough to cry after several nights of broken rest and days of constant discomfort and irritation; but a sense of rising anger kept the tears back.
"Of course I love him!" she said to herself aloud but softly, remembering the baby, "And no doubt he loves me! I'm glad to be his wife! I'm glad to be a mother to his child! I'm glad I married him! But--_this_ is not what he offered! And it's not what I undertook! He hasn't had to change his business!" She marched up and down the scant space, and then stopped short and laughed drily, continuing her smothered soliloquy.
"'Do you love me ?' they ask, and, 'I will make you happy!' they say; and you get married--and after that it's Housework!" "They don't say, 'Will you be my Cook ?' 'Will you be my Chamber maid ?' 'Will you give up a good clean well-paid business that you love--that has big hope and power and beauty in it--and come and keep house for me ?'" "Love him?
I'd be in Paris this minute if I didn't! What has 'love' to do with dust and grease and flies!" Then she did drop on the small sofa and cry tempestuously for a little while; but soon arose, fiercely ashamed of her weakness, and faced the day; thinking of the old lady who had so much to do she couldn't think what to first--so she sat down and made a pincushion.
Then--where to begin! "Eddie will sleep till half-past ten--if I'm lucky.

It's now nearly half-past nine," she meditated aloud.

"If I do the upstairs work I might wake him.

I mustn't forget the bread, the dishes, the parlor--O those flies! Well--I'll clear the table first!" Stepping softly, and handling the dishes with slow care, she cleaned the breakfast table and darkened the dining-room, flapping out some of the flies with a towel.

Then she essayed the parlor, dusting and arranging with undecided steps.