It's all very fine to have a handsome wife, with big black eyes and a spunky spirit, but a fellow doesn't want a wife that will bury the carving-knife in him the first time he contradicts her." Sybilla was a good walker; the last yellow line of the watery February sunset had hardly faded as she tripped up the long drive under the gaunt, tossing trees.

Mr.Edwards still lounged in elegant leisure in the hall, conversing with a gigantic young footman, and his fishy eyes kindled for the second time as Sybilla appeared, flushed and bright and sparkling, after her windy, twilight walk.
"I have outstripped the storm after all, you see," she remarked as she went by.

"I don't believe we shall have it before midnight.

Oh, Claudine! is my lady in her room?
I have been on an errand for her down the village." She had encountered the jaunty little French girl on the upper landing, and paused to put the question.
"Yes," Claudine said.

"Madame's headache was easier.