She listened till the sound of their footsteps died away, and then turning round to her dog picked it up and sat in a chair with the little animal in her lap. "Flirt," she said, "I guess he's perfectly luv-ly. There, you can go down now. I want to think." And she sat leaning back in her easy-chair with a pleased expression on her face until Habakkuk returned, and said, as he put down his hat: "A most excellent young man that, Ruys; I am afraid I misjudged him sadly to-day," and the missionary, pulling a chair near his wife, rubbed the palms of his hands together softly. "Remarkably good-looking, too, don't you think?" She turned and looked him full in the face. "I don't think I've given Mr. Jackson's looks a thought." "Of course not, of course not," said Habakkuk timidly, and began to repeat the nervous rubbing of his hands together. "Why of course not?" The calm tone in which this question was asked entirely upset Smalley; he stopped his hand exercise, and, crossing one leg over his knee, began to nurse it and sway slightly backward and forward. He did not answer his wife's question, and she watched him for a moment, and in her heart began to wonder how it was she had ever consented to marry this lanky, shuffling creature before her. She knew his moral character was irreproachable; if only his personal appearance were more prepossessing. She had truly and honestly tried to do her duty as his wife, but the chains of her bondage were beginning to gall. Mentally she was far Smalley's inferior. She could not live in the clear ether, in the pure air of his thoughts, and she was always unconsciously dragging him down while making many an honest effort to rise to his level. She had lived so quietly for so long a time that the sudden and unconventional manner of her meeting with Jackson had affected her powerfully. There was no denying that he was good-looking, and she had drifted into a flirtation with him at sight as naturally as a duck takes to the water. Oh, if life were only different for her! she thought as she watched Smalley swinging himself in his chair. The slow motion exasperated her; her nerves were at a tension, and she said sharply: "Habakkuk, I wish you wouldn't fidget so! Can't you sit still anyhow, like any other mortal? Do read, or do something. I want to think, and my head is aching."