"Yes; of course I do." "Oh! Good. That's all I wanted to know." "I see what you mean quite well," she said, walking up and down the room. "You think _I_ lead a useless life--that I'm not accomplished or literary or even domestic, or social. You think I lead an empty life with all my money." "Well, why shouldn't you, if you like it? But I wish you enjoyed it yourself more, that's the point." "I can never enjoy myself--if you want to know, Nigel--except when I'm with you; and even then I'm often not happy, because I think you don't care to be with me." "Oh, Mary! really! How awful you are! What rot all this is! I can't say more than that you can do whatever you like from morning to night, and that I don't wish to interfere with you in any possible way." "But I should like you to be _with_ me more." He restrained the obvious retort (that she didn't make herself agreeable). "Well, I _am_ with you." He humoured her gently. "Yes--at this moment." "Aren't we going to dine together?" "Yes, we are. But about an hour afterwards I know you'll find some sort of excuse either to go out, or to go into the library and read. Why can't you read while I'm looking at you? Why not?" "Don't be always looking forward, meeting troubles half way," he said jokingly. "Perhaps I sha'n't read." Then, after a moment's pause: "Excuse my saying so, my dear, but if _you_ sometimes read a book, or the papers, or saw more people, you would have more to tell me when we did meet, wouldn't you?" "It doesn't matter about that. You can tell me what you've been reading or seeing. Who did you see at the picture gallery? Was Mrs. Kellynch there?" "Look here"--he was looking at the paper--"would you like to go to the opera after dinner? Let's go one of these days soon." "No; I shouldn't like it at all." He stared at her in surprise. "Why not, pray? I thought you enjoyed it the other night?" "_You_ enjoyed it," she replied. "I thought you seemed rather pleased with yourself when we went out, with all your furs and tiaras and things. You looked very smart," he said pleasantly. "Well, I tell you I hated it, Nigel." "And why?" Mary was at least candid, and she spoke bluntly. "Because we met Mrs. Kellynch; and you talked to her and seemed pleased to see her." "Oh, good heavens! I can hardly cut dead all the women I ever knew before we were married." "Do you think her pretty?" said Mary. "Yes, of course I do; and so does everyone. She is pretty. It's a well-known fact. But what does it matter? It's of no interest to me." "Are you sure it isn't? Didn't you tell me you were almost engaged once?" "Oh, _do_ let's drop the prehistoric," he entreated, appearing bored. "Never mind about ancient history now. She's married and seems very happy." (He stopped himself in time from saying like us.) "Kellynch is a very good sort." "Is he? Do you envy him?"