John was surprised. He had sometimes wondered whether it were not altogether impossible to irritate his wife's calm temper to some open expression of anger. He had almost succeeded, but he by no means liked the form of retort she had chosen. A separation would not have suited him at all, for in his character the love of his possessions was strong, and he looked upon his wife as an important item in the inventory of his personal property. He hesitated a moment before he answered. "Of course we might separate, but I do not intend that we should--if I can help it," he added, as though an afterthought had occurred to him. "You are not doing your best to prevent it," answered Mrs. Darche. "Oh!--what are my sins? Are you jealous? This begins to interest me." "No, I am not jealous, you have never given me any cause to be." "You think that incompatibility of temper would be sufficient ground, then?" "For a temporary separation--yes." "Ah--it is to be only temporary? How good you are!" "It can be permanent, if you like." "I have already told you that I have no idea of separating. I cannot imagine why you go back to it as you do." "You drive me back to it." "You are suddenly developing a temper. This is delightful." Mrs. Darche made no answer, but occupied herself with her papers in silence. She could hardly account for the humour in which she was answering her husband, seeing that for years she had listened to his disagreeable and brutal sayings without retort. It is impossible to foresee the precise moment at which the worm will turn, the beast refuse its load, and the human heart revolt. Sometimes it never comes at all, and then we call the sufferer a coward. After a pause which lasted several minutes, John renewed the attack. "I am sorry you will not quarrel any more, it was so refreshing," he said. "I do not like quarrelling," answered Marion, without looking up. "What good can it do?" "You are always wanting to do good! Life without contrasts is very insipid." Mrs. Darche rose from her seat and came and stood by the fireplace. "John," she said, "something has happened. You are not like yourself. If I can be of any use to you, tell me the truth and I will do all I can. If not, go and ride as you said you would. The fresh air will rest you." "You are a good creature, my dear," said Darche looking at her curiously. "I do not know whether you mean to be flattering, or whether you wish to go on with this idle bickering over words--you know that I do not like to be called a good creature, like the washerwoman or the cook. Yes--I know--I am angry just now. Never mind, my advice is good. Either go out at once, or tell me just what is the matter and let me do the best I can to help you." "There is nothing to tell, my dear." "Then go out, or go and talk to your father--or stay here, and I will go away." "Anything rather than stay together," suggested Darche.