But she just took it as a matter of course that she could stroke his hair if she wanted to, and presently it began to give him a sensation of pleasure and rest.

If she had, by word or look, suggested that she expected some return, Henry would have frozen at once--but all she did was apparently only to please herself, and so he had no defense to make.

Still in the character of domestic tyrant, she presently led him to the comfortable armchair, and once more seated herself upon the stool close to the fire by his side.

Here she was silent for a few moments, letting the comfort of the whole scene sink in to his brain--and then, when the maid came in to clear away the dinner-table, she got up and went to the piano, where she played some soft, but not sentimental tunes.

Music of a certain sort would be the worst thing for him, but a light air while Marie was in the room could do no harm.