"I'm telling it for a tale that is told--and over. It must have been a disappointment when you learned that I was not dead." "It was. I could have shook old Twelves when he told me. Perhaps I'll do it yet." "Will you? That will be nice for Twelves. I should like to be present at the shaking. You look as if you could shake him." "I should think I could--shake the bones right out of his body. I'm as strong as a horse--stronger than most men. I once thought of coming out as a strong woman, only I didn't fancy the training." "Didn't you? By training do you mean clean and healthy living? Is that what you disliked?" She had already repented her lapse into the autobiographical. "Never you mind what I mean." "We won't; why should we? May I take it that you have got over the disappointment of not finding me dead, and have become reconciled to the idea of my living?" "You don't look to me as if you would live long, considering that you're as good as dead already." "You think so. We've not been long at arriving at that stage of perfect candour which, I fancy, marks the career of the average husband and wife. I think you're wrong. I am one of those beings who are very tenacious of life. I'm only fifty, whatever I may look. There's no real reason--your friend Dr. Twelves will tell you--why I shouldn't live another five-and-twenty years." "I don't care what he says after what he told me. I'll bet you don't." "Suppose I do, would you propose to spend them with me?" "I should do as I like." "I begin to suspect you'd try to. Let me put the case in another way. What would you want to leave this house and never re-enter it again?" "Twenty thousand pounds." "Is that your lowest figure?" "It is." "Thank you. I will give the matter my careful consideration. In the meanwhile may I ask you to leave me for a time? My conversational powers soon become exhausted; with them I am apt to become exhausted too. A little rest might do you good." "Listen to me. I came here so that you and I might understand each other." "We have gone some distance in that direction, haven't we?" "I don't think you have, or you wouldn't talk to me like that. It may be clever, and cutting, and that kind of thing, but I don't like it. I'm your wife, your equal, more than your equal, since you're lying there like a log, already more than three parts dead. I'm the mistress of this house; this room is as much mine as yours." "Is it?" "It is. That's what you've got to understand. When I choose to leave it I will, but not a moment before. So don't you order me about, because I don't intend to let you, and there'll be trouble if you try." "Am I to understand when I ask you to leave the room, my bedroom, in spite of your courteous hint of a moment back, that you refuse?"