“No, it wasn’t. But I am all the more bound to fulfill it well now, when I have neglected it so long. Annie, don’t be hard. Why did you come to me when I had got used to being without you, if you only meant to show me what a brute I was, and then repulse me when I tried, for your sake, to be something better? You don’t know how you have hurt me this afternoon by showing me how sorry you were to see me again; I don’t think I ever felt so knocked over as when, after I had met that fellow and knew who he was--for I’m not such a booby as you suppose, and I knew you liked that ugly Maypole better than me--you just said ‘Harry!’ without a smile or the least sign of pleasure when you saw me. I felt as if you had stuck a knife into me.” He stopped for a few moments, his voice all husky. “And then see how good I’ve been to you! I’ve never even said a harsh word to you, though I know many husbands who would have said horrid things to their wives if they had caught them like that. But I swore to William that I would be very gentle to you, even if you were not glad to see me. I don’t know what made him guess you wouldn’t be; but I’ll just punch his head for being so clever when I get back. And haven’t I kept my word? If I had been so clever as these men you know, who can do everything, I should have been sarcastic; and, instead of that, I have let you be sarcastic, and I haven’t even sworn at you;” and Harry looked up at his wife pleadingly, yet proudly, as if the force of conjugal affection and manly self-restraint could no further go. “Harry, indeed I am glad to see you, and sorry you are still so thin. I should have told you so long ago if you had let me. But you made such a furious onslaught upon me at once.” “Very well then; we’ll let by-gones be by-gones, and you shall come back with me, and we’ll be as happy as crickets,” said he, affectionately, as he jumped up from his chair and was on his knees beside her, with his arm round her, in a minute. “But, Harry, I can’t do that. I am under an engagement now which I am bound to fulfill. And, remember, we were not at all like happy crickets when we were at the Grange together.” “No, the Grange is a beastly old place, and nobody could be happy there; I don’t wonder you got moped,” he answered, hastily. “Now in town it is different. There is so much to be done in London, such a lot to be seen, so--so many books and--and picture-galleries and pretty dresses and clever people.” “But you don’t care for those things, Harry.” “Yes, I do--at least, I shall when I’ve been with you a little while. And I’ve quite taken to reading, and----Oh, I shall get on capitally!” “But what would you do without your dogs and your horses, Harry?” “Do you think I can’t get on without dogs and horses,” said he impatiently. “I suppose you think I can’t be happy unless I am loafing about a stable with my inferiors--only you wouldn’t call them my inferiors!”