“Fred cares about his books,” Mrs. Lester said slowly. “I don’t think that he cares the very least about me.” “Oh, you know that’s untrue. You’re cross just now and so is he, and both of you imagine things. But down in your hearts you are absolutely sure of it.” Mrs. Lester shrugged her shoulders. “I’m afraid that I may be tiresome,” said Lady Gale gently, “but, my dear, I’ve lived such a long time and I know that it’s sufficiently rare to get the right man. You’ve got him, and you’re so certain that he’s right that you think that you can play with it, and it’s dangerous.” “I’m not a bit certain,” said Mrs. Lester. “Oh, you are, of course you are. You know that Fred’s devoted to you and you’re devoted to Fred. Only it’s rather dull that everything should go along so soberly and steadily, and you think that you’ll have some fun by quarrelling and worrying him. You’re piqued sometimes because you don’t think that he pays you enough attention and you imagine that other men will pay you more, and he is very patient.” “Oh, you don’t know how annoying he can be sometimes,” said Mrs. Lester, shaking her head. “When he shuts himself up in his stupid books and isn’t aware that I’m there at all.” “Of course I know,” said Lady Gale. “All men are annoying and so are all women. Anyone that we’ve got to live with is bound to be; that’s the whole point of rubbing along. Marriage seems stupid enough and dull enough and annoying enough, but as a matter of fact it would be ever so much worse if the man wasn’t there at all; yes, however wrong the man may be. We’ve got to learn to stick it; whether the _it_ is a pimple on one’s nose or a husband.” “Oh, it’s so easy to talk.” Mrs. Lester shook her shoulders impatiently. “One has theories and it’s very nice to spread them out, but in practice it’s quite different. Fred’s been perfectly beastly these last few days.” “Well,” said Lady Gale, “don’t run a risk of losing him. I mean that quite seriously. One thinks that one’s got a man so safely that one can play any game one likes, and then suddenly the man’s gone; and then, my dear, you’re sorry.” “You’re dreadfully serious to-night. I wanted to be amused, and instead of that you speak as if I were on the verge of something dreadful. I’m not a bit. It’s only Fred that’s cross.” “Of course I don’t think you’re on the verge of anything dreadful.” Lady Gale bent down and kissed her. “It’s only that Treliss is a funny place. It has its effect—well, it’s rather hard to say—but on our nerves, I suppose. We are all of us excited and would do things, perhaps, here that we shouldn’t dream of doing anywhere else. Things look differently here.” She paused a moment, then she added, “It’s all rather worrying.” “Dear, I’m a pig,” said Mrs. Lester, leaning over and kissing her. “Don’t bother about me and my little things. But why are you worrying? Is it Tony?”