When I left them they were already talking clothes, and Carrie had a hand glass and was looking at herself intently in it. "I've changed, of course," she sighed. "One can't have two children and not show the wear and tear of maternity. I could take off five pounds by going on a milk diet. I think I will." She went on the diet at luncheon that day, and Wallie told her that if she would cut out heavy dinners and wine her stomach would be her friend, not her enemy. She glanced at me, but I ignored her. Somehow I was feeling blue. The week-end had not been a success, and the girls had not been slow to tell me about it. The very eagerness with which they planned for the next week told me what a failure I'd had. Even then the idea of getting even somehow with Carrie was in the back of my mind. The men did some trap shooting that afternoon, and during dinner Jim started a discussion about putting women on a clothes allowance and making them keep within it. "I can systematise my business," he said, "but I can't systematise my home. I'm spending more now than I'm getting out of the mill." Wallie Smith came up to scratch about that time by saying that his mother raised him with the assistance of a nursemaid, and no governess and trained nurse nonsense. "That is why I insist on a trained nurse and a governess," said Carrie coldly, and took another sip of milk. They went home that night, and Bill, having seen them into the motors, came up on the terrace. "Bully party, old dear," he said enthusiastically. "Have 'em often, won't you?" He sat down near me and put a hand over mine. All at once I was sorry I'd accepted Carrie's invitation. Not that there would be any harm in seeing Roger again, but because Bill wouldn't like it. The touch of his warm hand on mine, the quiet of the early summer night after the noise that had gone before, the scent of the honeysuckle over the pergola, all combined to soften me. "I'm glad you had a good time, Bill," I said after a little silence. "I'm afraid the girls didn't enjoy it much. You men were either golfing or swimming or shooting, and there wasn't much to do but talk." Bill said nothing. I thought he might be resentful, and I was in a softened mood. "I didn't really mind your staying downstairs the other night with Carrie," I said. "Bill, do smell the honeysuckle. Doesn't it remind you of the night you asked me to marry you?" Still Bill said nothing. I leaned over and looked at him. As usual he was asleep.