He led her into the dining-room, furnished with a proper little “set” of light oak, the stupidest sort of room, neither pretty nor comfortable. He opened and hastily closed the door of the kitchen, which was evidently not prepared for inspection; then he took her upstairs to see three small bedrooms, with cheap white iron beds. She stopped him in the doorway of the last of these distressing rooms and put her hands on his shoulders, looking into his face with her wonderful eyes. “Oh, you fool of a boy!” she said, “How could you! How long do you think you’re going to stand this!” “Julie,” he assured her, solemnly, “I’ve never been so happy before in my life.” It was true. In this ugly little place, in the midst of increasing and pressing worry over money, he had been content. He had believed that he had returned to something simpler and better than his old life. He didn’t recognise it as a degradation. That is indeed the Minnie method. She had drugged him, stupefied him with a sort of low comfort. Only now, with Julie beside him, did doubts begin to arise. Julie stared at him. “I don’t believe it,” she said, bluntly, “You’re not going to pretend you’re fond of that awful dowdy little----” “I say, Julie! You’re----” “Be honest, then. I’m awfully sorry for you. Can’t you get a divorce or something?” “I’m not joking, Julie. She’s my wife, and I--really I can’t tell you what I think of her----” “I’ll tell you what _I_ think of her. She’s a nasty, sneaky, hypocritical devil. I could see it at once. She’s----” Julie cast about for an expression, “She’s like a bad nun.” “Stop it, Julie! You ought to be ashamed of yourself.” “Rot! _You_ ought to be ashamed of yourself, to be tricked by such a cheap little humbug.” They were interrupted by Horace coming upstairs in profound distress. “Hush!” he whispered, “You can be heard!” “What the devil do I care?” demanded Julie. “Can’t you behave like a lady?” he asked, still in a whisper. Her famous temper began to heat. “A lady!” she cried, “You wouldn’t know a lady if you saw one, any of you. A fine lot! A fat old money-grubber like you, and a grafter like Lionel, and that slut downstairs! I certainly must be on my best behaviour here.” The manners acquired in the city had dropped away, revealing the older, truer self, the violent and reckless daughter of the “Cattle King,” the spoiled princess of a primitive community. She had plenty to say, she put her hands on her slim hips and attacked them all with vigour, thoroughly enjoying herself. She wanted to score off Minnie, and she did. And Minnie had to pretend not to hear. This was the sort of woman she couldn’t cope with, a woman she feared. Horace tried to remonstrate. “Shut up, Horace,” she said, briskly, “The creature’s a ----. Can’t you see the condition she’s in, and they haven’t been married a month?” That silenced everyone. “Now,” she said, at last, “I’m going. Come on, Horace!”