She stood for a moment upon the hearth-rug.

The little hardness which had tightened her mouth had disappeared, her eyes had softened.
"May I say just one word more," she begged, "about our previous--our only serious subject of conversation?
I have tried my best since we were married, Henry, to make you happy." "You know quite well," he assured her, "that you have succeeded." "Grant me one favour, then," she pleaded.

"Give up your fishing expedition to-morrow, go back to London by the first train and let me write to Lord Rayton.

I am sure he would do something for you." "Of course he'd do something!" Her husband groaned.

"I should get a censorship in Ireland, or a post as instructor at Portsmouth." "Wouldn't you rather take either of those than nothing ?" she asked, "than go on living the life you are living now ?" "To be perfectly frank with you, Philippa, I wouldn't," he declared bluntly.