It was little enough pleasure she could get, and apparently her husband grudged her that.

His manner to her this afternoon was not such as to encourage her to stay in from her drive on another occasion.

To-morrow she would go sledging.
That flash of light which reveals ourselves to ourselves had not yet come to Mrs.Reffold.
She looked at her husband, and thought from his restfulness that he had gone to sleep, and she was just beginning to write to that particular friend at Cannes, to tell her what a trial she was undergoing, when Mr.Reffold called her to his side.
"Winifred," he said gently, and there was tenderness in his voice, and love written on his face, "Winifred, I am sorry if I have been sharp to you.

Little Brick says we mustn't come down like sledge-hammers on each other; and that is what I have been doing this afternoon.

Perhaps I have been hard: I am such an illness to myself, that I must be an illness to others too.