"And since we must speak truth," she went on, "I was waiting to tell you I was distractedly in love with you,--it was no make-believe,--but that I was deadly tired of the whole thing in a few months. It's not quite a year yet, is it? That's why I wanted to amuse myself with Mr. Meramble, or somebody. But when you flung Meramble into the ocean you did it so well, and he seemed so insignificant, that I was almost in love with you again. But it didn't last. Now I've had the last word; I imagine we understand each other." She rose and stretched her arms above her head. She glanced at her watch. "I'm going sailing with Mrs. Yorke and a few others. I hope you won't need anything before I come back. Don't you think you'd better try to have another nap? You look very tired. And I hope you won't forget your medicine, and all that kind of thing." She went into the inner room, and in a few moments came back with hat on and parasol in her hand. Lawrence was walking back and forth in the room. He paused near his wife, and laid his hand on her arm. "I hope you won't remember the foolish things a poor half-sick fellow says," he began. "I hope, since we are to spend our lives together, we may be on friendly terms, Prudence." Prudence was occupied in furling her parasol, and in fastening the folds. She did not raise her eyes, as she answered, "Of course we shall be friendly. You didn't think I should begin to quarrel with you, did you? I'm not quite so vulgar as that. I'm not going to mend your stockings, or warm your slippers, or that kind of thing, you know. We are like other people, that's all." Prudence now glanced up at her companion. There was a fire in her eyes that blazed still more, as she continued: "I imagine I have a great deal of temperament, as the French say. Now, good-by. I don't know whether we shall sail down to Plymouth, or not." She left the room. The crow walked after her to the door, made a guttural sound, then occupied himself by pulling threads from the carpet. Lawrence leaned against a window-casing, and gazed vaguely at the bird. "What did she mean by that?" he asked, aloud. "What is it to have a great deal of temperament? Perhaps I have it myself." He turned towards the window, from which he could see the ocean. "Not quite a year ago. Really, it's horrible to come to this in less than a year. There they go. How charming Yorke thinks her! See him take her parasol and carefully hold it between her and the sun. His wife is carrying her own sunshade. See Prudence look up at her cavalier and smile at him. Oh, what an egregious ass I have been. And now let me drink what I have brewed." He turned from the window. He gave a short laugh. "Why, I am actually becoming a soliloquizer. To how much lower depths shall I sink, I wonder?"