“‘There!’ broke out Lucinda passionately, before we were out of hearing. ‘Did you see those two on the seat?’ “‘I did. I thought, so far as I could judge, you know, that they looked uncommonly happy.’ “‘Happy! a soldier! a servant girl! What have they done? Surely you, as a practical politician, can tell me. Why should they be born to such a life? I ask you. No gleam of brightness to lighten the impenetrable gloo----’ “‘Come now. You are quoting the maniac in the red tie.’ “We got out of the Park and went along Oxford Street in silence until we were near the Circus. Then Lucinda burst out suddenly: “‘Two thousand acres of land----’ “‘If you are going to tackle the agricultural problem----’ “‘One third of the available capital----’ “‘Don’t start on statistics; nothing more treacherous.’ “‘How many families did he say lived in one room?’ “‘Wasn’t listening.’ “‘That is just it. People like you never do listen. People like you content themselves with reading stupid, woolly, political speeches. For my part, I always skip such things, and am thankful when Parliament adjourns and they put something really interesting in the papers.’” Gully stopped and knocked the ashes out of his pipe. “From that day,” he said solemnly, when he had refilled and lighted up, “she has given me no peace. She’ll compromise herself seriously--that’s what I’m afraid of. She’s been making election rosettes. She actually met a fellow by appointment in Broad Street. One of these Social Democrats; she wants me to review his book, ‘The Fall of the Capitalist.’ I put my foot down when it came to appointments--the scoundrel! “She’s always hurling Socialistic bricks at me. I’ve tried to convince her of her errors with a pencil and a bit of paper. I worked out a sum in proportion, with a landowner and a man with a patent who had a certain amount of capital to start with. She said she didn’t care a fig for my stupid landowner. “I’m afflicted with a wife who has ideas of her own and means to live up to them. It’s hard. I never counted on taking brains--of the bran-new sort--when I took Lucinda. I object to a clever woman. I work hard. I’ve got brains enough for both, and over. I ask for a pretty face, a fresh frock, good cooking--that’s all. I can get the rest from the papers, or I can drop in at the club.” “Look here, old man,” I said soothingly, “get her on facts. Never use pencil and paper to a woman--logic only irritates them. Make her live up to her doctrines--she’ll be sick of them in a week.” Women soon tire; all froth and no ballast. (I’m forgetting that you’re a woman, but you like the complete story.) He went away after I had given him a few tips. At the end of the week he came back. “Well?” I said optimistically, as he sat down and took out his pipe.