Althea had hastened to add, 'But, dear, really I think them very pretty. They show quite a direct, simple feeling for colour. Don't they, Helen? Don't you feel with me that they are very pretty?' Helen had said that she knew nothing about pictures, but liked Gerald's very much. It was hard now to be asked to accept this vagrant artistry instead of the large, political life she had seen for him. And what of the London drawing-room? 'You must keep in touch with people, Gerald,' she said. 'You mustn't sink into the country squire for ever.' 'Oh, but that's just what I want to sink into,' said Gerald. 'Don't bother about people, though, dear. We can have plenty of people to stay with us, and go about a bit ourselves.' 'But we must be in London for part of the year,' said Althea. 'Oh, you will run up now and then for a week whenever you like,' said Gerald. 'A week! How can one keep in touch with what is going on in a week? Can't we take a little house there? One of those nice little old houses in Westminster, for example?' 'A house, my dear! Why, you don't want to leave Merriston, do you? What would become of Merriston if we had a house in London--and of all our plans? We really couldn't manage that, dear--we really couldn't afford it.' Yes, she saw the life very distinctly, now; that of the former Mrs. Digbys--that of cheerful squiress and wise helpmate. And, charmed though she was with her lover, Althea was not charmed with that prospect. She promised herself that things should turn out rather differently. What was uncomfortable already was to find that her promises were becoming vague and tentative. There was a new sense of bondage. Bliss was in it, but the bonds began to chafe. CHAPTER XVIII.