“What do you think of me?” she wailed. “I must have been mad. You are so wonderful, Jeremy, so wonderfully sweet about it all: and then I take up your sweetness and slash you across the face. Jeremy boy, you’ve got a cad for a wife.” Jeremy kissed her hair. “My lady,” he said. “My darling.” Eve shook her glorious head. “No,” she said. “No lady. Don’t call me that again. I’ve done the unspeakable thing. I know it. If you’d given me cause, it would’ve been the grossest form. But as things are . . .” She drew away and passed a hand over her eyes. “I think I must be possessed, Jeremy. Of course I hadn’t a leg—about the drinks, I mean. You were perfectly right. But I can mend that. I’ll never touch a cocktail again as long as I live. But I can’t mend the other.” “It’s mended,” said Jeremy, taking her hands in his. “I made you mad as a hornet. I didn’t mean to, dear, but I’m clumsy, you know. Well, when you’re mad, you just pick up the first brick. You don’t care what it’s made of or what it is. The point is it’s something to heave.” Eve looked him in the face. “There was a label on that brick—‘=Not to be Thrown=,’” she said. “We’ve all got two or three bricks labelled like that—‘DO NOT TOUCH,’ ‘DANGEROUS.’ . . . I think from what you said that brick is marked ‘DANGEROUS’ too.” Jeremy bowed his head. “Yes.” “Jeremy,” said Eve, “you’ve something I haven’t got—thousands of things, of course, but especially one. And that’s my respect.” Her husband smiled. Then he extended his arms and brought her face to his chin. “You’ve got mine, any way,” he said. “Rot.” Jeremy nodded solemnly. “To tell you the truth,” he said, “you never lost it. If you could have seen yourself. . . .” “A sulky child,” said Eve. “No,” said Broke. “A—a princess.” “That’s not what you married.” “I know. But that was your fault. You went and gave me my choice.” A mischievous look stole into the big brown eyes. “What a fool I was,” said Eve and put up her mouth. * * * * * If the Brokes had slid back for ten months, for the next six they went steadily forward, hand in hand. It was the strangest progress. Luxury, Idleness, Ease certainly came behind, but dutifully, as servants should. A jovial Discipline jogged by their side. Respect and Self-Respect marched solemnly ahead. Jeremy did admirably. Eve had never been mouthed—and she was twenty-six. She was worth twenty thousand pounds a year. Finally, she was American. . . . With infinite patience, with gentleness, firmly her husband went to work—helping his wife, helping himself, helping his wife to help him and always giving her the glory. Eve gave it back always, with a look in her eyes that money cannot buy. The vanities of a wicked world were against her, but her love and respect for Jeremy beat them back. She began to see the smile on Discipline’s face, look for his cheerful wink, glow before his bluff praise.