He said that about the importance of Playmate Place quite seriously. And, you know, I took it quite as seriously. A dream or vision or whatever it was, that has lasted fresh in a man’s mind from the age of nine to the age of forty-nine is, after all, a thing to be taken seriously. I haven’t, as a rule, much patience with dreams; and there’s a deal too much talk of dreams in the novels of the day, for it’s so easy to write “dream”; but Hugh’s, as they say, rather “got” me. He never spoke about it to Lamoir. “I began to, several times,” he said, “but somehow I never went on. You see, there was such a difference between our life together and the way we had been together in that garden. I mean, such a tremendous difference in spirit. She was the same, but I--well, I was the same, too, but only that ‘same’ which had jeered at the word ‘playmate.’ It’s difficult to explain. I knew, you see, as I said things that might hurt her, that I was in the wrong--and I didn’t want to say them, either--but somehow it was in me to say them and so I said them. It’s somehow the impulses you can’t put into words that are the strongest.” The marriage of Hugh and Lamoir appeared to have gone much the same way as most marriages. At first they were very happy, and they were quite certain that they were going to be even happier. Then they thought that perhaps they were not so happy as they had been, and then they were quite certain that they were not so happy as they had been. Hugh said it was more or less like that. Hugh, at the time, had thought privately that this was because Lamoir did not take very much interest in his collections of fine things. Not that he wasn’t quite contented with his marriage. Good Lord, contented! I wonder what Lamoir thought about that. Contented! But she never confided, that quiet Lamoir. It was a great unhappiness to her, Hugh said, that there were no children. A very great unhappiness. He hadn’t, he admitted, minded so much, because year by year he was growing more absorbed in his collections. Throughout his married life he would go off searching Europe for pieces. Italy, Greece, Spain. At first he used to take Lamoir with him, but later on she would stay at home. She preferred that, Hugh said. She wouldn’t stay in the London house, but at Langton Weaver, the house which was larger but not so clean-looking as Playmate Place. Lamoir lived in the garden and the park. I met Hugh and Lamoir in the last years of their life together, and whenever I went to stay at Langton Weaver I would find Lamoir in the park. She would generally be standing just off a path, quite still, wearing gardening-gloves, and looking thoughtfully down at the flowers. Then she would touch one here and there. She was gardening.