"Well," said Denry, in reply to Nellie’s conscience, "it serves him right for making me look a fool over that Geneva business. And besides, I can’t stand uppishness, and I won’t. I ’m from the Five Towns, I am." Upon which singular utterance the incident closed. CHAPTER XII. THE SUPREME HONOUR I Denry was not as regular in his goings and comings as the generality of business men in the Five Towns; no doubt because he was not by nature a business man at all, but an adventurous spirit who happened to be in a business which was much too good to leave. He was continually, as they say there, "up to something" that caused changes in daily habits. Moreover, the Universal Thrift Club (Limited) was so automatic and self-winding that Denry ran no risks in leaving it often to the care of his highly-drilled staff. Still, he did usually come home to his tea about six o’clock of an evening, like the rest, and like the rest he brought with him a copy of the _Signal_ to glance at during tea. One afternoon in July he arrived thus upon his waiting wife at Machin House, Bleakridge. And she could see that an idea was fermenting in his head. Nellie understood him. One of the most delightful and reassuring things about his married life was Nellie’s instinctive comprehension of him. His mother understood him profoundly. But she understood him in a manner sardonic, slightly malicious, and even hostile. Whereas Nellie understood him with her absurd love. According to his mother’s attitude, Denry was guilty till he had proved himself innocent. According to Nellie’s, he was always right and always clever in what he did, until he himself said that he had been wrong and stupid—and not always then. Nevertheless, his mother was just as ridiculously proud of him as Nellie was; but she would have perished on the scaffold rather than admit that Denry differed in any detail from the common run of sons. Mrs. Machin had departed from Machin House, without waiting to be asked. It was characteristic of her that she had returned to Brougham Street and rented there an out-of-date cottage without a single one of the labour-saving contrivances that distinguished the residence which her son had originally built for her. It was still delicious for Denry to sit down to tea in the dining-room, that miracle of conveniences, opposite the smile of his wife, which told him (_a_) that he was wonderful, (_b_) that she was enchanted to be alive, and (_c_) that he had deserved her particular caressing attentions and would receive them. On the afternoon in July the smile told him (_d_) that he was possessed by one of his ideas. "Extraordinary how she tumbles to things!" he reflected.