"They are mostly in the drawing-room," said Marie. "I should like to see the drawing-room now it's finished," said Mrs. Amber, rising eagerly. In the small room of pale hues she stood satisfied, almost entranced. But she had those sad things to say which occur inevitably to elderly women of domestic avocations. "This white paint! You'll have something to do, my child, keeping it clean. It marks so. I know that. Yes, it's pretty, but this time next year I hope you won't be sorry you had it. But of course, just for the two of you--well, you'll both have to be careful. You'll have to warn Osborn, my dear. Men need reminding so often." "Osborn is rather different from most men," said Marie. "He is so very thoughtful; he made me some tea early this morning, and did the dining-room grate, and lighted the geyser, and everything." "That won't last, my dear," replied Mrs. Amber, in a tone of quiet authority, but not lamenting. "Osborn is not a man who changes, mother," said Marie. "The chintz is a little light; it will show marks almost as much as the paint, I'm afraid, duck," Mrs. Amber continued. "I don't know if it wouldn't have been better to choose a darker ground. However, you can wash these covers at home. The frills are the only parts which you need to iron. I dare say you know that, dear?" "Oh, well, I shan't have to think of those things yet, mother. I dare say Osborn would prefer me to send them to the cleaner's, anyway." "People live more extravagantly now," said Mrs. Amber. "I should have done them at home." "Things change." Mrs. Amber thought. "In marriage," she stated presently, "someone has to make sacrifices." "Why should it be the woman?" "Because the woman," answered Mrs. Amber quoting someone she had once heard, "is naturally selected for it." "Mother," said Marie, "don't be tiresome." Mrs. Amber went away reluctantly at three o'clock. She was a wise woman, and did not want to appear ubiquitous. At four, while Marie was unpacking the trunks they had brought yesterday, Julia came in. "I begged off an hour earlier," she stated. She looked quite moved, for Julia; she held Marie at arm's length, stood off and surveyed her. "Well," she asked, "how are you?" "Very well, and awf'ly happy." Once more the kettle boiled on the gas-stove; once more toast baked under the grill; and the girls, one eager to tell, the other eager to listen, sat down on the hearthrug in the little dining-room to talk. "What is marriage really like?" said Julia incredulously. "Haven't you any fault to find? Any fly in your ointment?" And Marie replied: "Absolutely none." "It seems wonderful," said Julia thoughtfully.