"Of course, after mother's death--" "I was awf'ly sorry, Marie. I'm afraid I wrote rather a brief letter about it; life was rather a rush, you know." "It didn't matter. I was going to say, that after her death, I found myself quite well off, comparatively." "You didn't tell me much." "No. Well, you didn't ask much. Surely, I answered all your questions?" He remembered uncomfortably the many months of his abstraction with Roselle; she had occupied his thoughts for a while almost to the exclusion of everything else. "I expect you did, dearest." "However, I'm going into accounts with you presently, and then you'll know everything." "Overspent yourself?" he smiled complacently, with the knowledge of that thousand pounds backing him. "Want money to go on with?" She shook her head. "I don't want anything, thanks." The thought was to her like a bulwark; it was a thought which thousands of wives would have loved to possess. It somehow completed her sense of detachment from him. She puzzled him. "How long have you had a maid?" he asked. "I must say I was awf'ly surprised when what's--her--name--Ann--opened the door to me." "Let's see," she considered, wrinkling her brows, "I've had her for six months. Before that I had a woman in to do the rough work." "Well, if you could manage it--" "I managed it, and kept quite within our income, thank you, Osborn." "I must say it's very jolly to have you all to myself like this. We always used to talk of what we'd do when my ship came home, and now here she is!" "Poor Osborn! You _must_ be glad." "Aren't _you_?" "Of course I am." "We'll have a bigger flat; it's rather a crowd here, isn't it?" "Yes, I'd like another room." "You shall have what you like, darling." He put an arm round her shoulders, drawing her face to his. "You know I'd like to give you the world!" She was silent. He kissed her cheek, holding her against him. "I must show you what I've brought as soon as I unpack. I got you some things in the Bon Marché--I think you'll like them." "I'm sure to." "Tell me what you've been doing. I want to hear all about you," he said persistently. "There's very little to tell. I've been able to go out a great deal more lately; and I've been resting and reading while I had the opportunity. I took the children to the sea in the summer. Ann went with us, so I was very free and had long walks and swims. It was delightful." "And you've missed me?" he asked quickly. "I don't hear anything about that." "We have all missed you." Her assurance left him vaguely unsatisfied. She drew away from him with a sidelong glance, half sad, half ribald, as if she knew and was regretfully amused at what he was thinking. She leaned over the table, cake knife in hand. "Have some of this iced cake, Osborn? Bought specially for you." For a while that pleased and appeased him. He asked more casually for news, and she told him of Rokeby's and Julia's surprise wedding. He sat back, astonished, exclaiming: