'He isn't really, Bruce. I know what it is. I can explain the whole thing. Last time I saw him--he called the day you were rehearsing--he said he had given up being a Legitimist, and was going to try, if possible, to develop a sense of humour. He thinks for one thing it will please _me_. I'm sure he hopes you will tell me the story about the crumpet, and that I shall admire him for it.' 'Do you seriously mean that he's trying to be funny on your account?' 'That's the idea.' 'But what have you to do with his career? What is it to you? I mean, what is it to him--whether you like people to be funny or serious?' 'Nothing, really.' 'You admit openly, Edith, that you know he has such a liking for you that he is becoming a clown in the hope that you will think him witty?' 'That is it. He's afraid he's a bore--too dull. He wants to amuse me. That's all.' 'What right has he to wish anything of the kind? Have you not got me, if you wish to be amused? If I thought that you were right--but, mind you, I don't; all women have their little vanities, and I believe it's a delusion of yours about Raggett--I think he's simply been getting a little queer in the head lately. However, if I did think it, I should consider it an outrage. To write me a letter on a crumpet, as a _joke_! Joke, indeed! Men have been called out for less, Edith.' Bruce thought a little while, then he said-- 'I'll take no notice of it this time. But if I have any more nonsense from Raggett, I shall ask for an explanation. I shall say to him, "My wife tells me that your tone, which I consider greatly wanting in deference to me, is meant as homage to her! What do you mean?" I shall say to Raggett, just like this, "What the--"' Edith already regretted her candour. 'No, no; you mustn't bully poor Raggett. Perhaps I was wrong. I daresay he wanted to amuse us both.' 'That is more likely,' said Bruce, relenting. 'But he's going the wrong way to work if he wishes to retain my good opinion of him. And so I shall tell him if he gives me any more of this sort of thing.' 'Instead of bothering about Raggett, I do wish you would answer your father's letter, Bruce.' 'Good gracious; surely I need not answer it at once!' 'I think you should.' 'Well, what does he say?' Bruce had such a dislike to plain facts that he never, if he could avoid it, would read a letter to himself containing any business details. Edith took out the letter. 'Why I've told you already, but you wouldn't listen. On condition that you are not late at the office or absent from it except on holidays, for any reason, either pleasure or illness, for the next two years, your father will pay the debt and help you to start fresh.' 'But how can I be sure I shan't be ill? A man in my delicate state.' 'Oh, assume that you won't. Try not to be--promise to be well. Surely it's worth it?'