“Oh, I don’t think I do anything of the kind.” “You don’t see it.... When I kiss you, it is the most natural thing in the world for you to push me away, as if--almost as if you couldn’t bear me.” “Nonsense!” To himself Edward was the same now as when they were first married. “Of course after four months of married life you can’t expect a man to be the same as on his honeymoon. One can’t always be making love and canoodling. Everything in its proper time and season,” he added, with the unoriginal man’s fondness for proverbial philosophy. After the day’s work he liked to read his _Standard_ in peace, so when Bertha came up to him he put her gently aside. “Leave me alone for a bit, there’s a good girl.” “Oh, you don’t love me,” she cried then, feeling as if her heart would break. He did not look up from his paper nor make reply; he was in the middle of a leading article. “Why don’t you answer?” she cried. “Because you’re talking nonsense.” He was the best-humoured of men, and Bertha’s temper never disturbed his equilibrium. He knew that women felt a little irritable at times, but if a man gave ’em plenty of rope, they’d calm down after a bit. “Women are like chickens,” he told a friend. “Give ’em a good run, properly closed in with stout wire netting, so that they can’t get into mischief, and when they cluck and cackle just sit tight and take no notice.” Marriage had made no great difference in Edward’s life. He had always been a man of regular habits, and these he continued to cultivate. Of course he was more comfortable. “There’s no denying it: a fellow wants a woman to look after him,” he told Dr. Ramsay, whom he sometimes met on the latter’s rounds. “Before I was married I used to find my shirts wore out in no time, but now when I see a cuff getting a bit groggy I just give it to the Missis and she makes it as good as new.” “There’s a good deal of extra work, isn’t there, now you’ve taken on the Home Farm?” “Oh, bless you, I enjoy it. Fact is, I can’t get enough work to do. And it seems to me that if you want to make farming pay nowadays you must do it on a big scale.” All day Edward was occupied, if not on the farms, then with business at Blackstable, Tercanbury, and Faversley. “I don’t approve of idleness,” he said. “They always say the devil finds work for idle hands to do, and upon my word I think there’s a lot of truth in it.” Miss Glover, to whom this sentiment was addressed, naturally approved, and when Edward immediately afterwards went out, leaving her with Bertha, she said-- “What a good fellow your husband is! You don’t mind my saying so, do you?” “Not if it pleases you,” said Bertha, drily. “I hear praise of him from every side. Of course Charles has the highest opinion of him.” Bertha did not answer, and Miss Glover added, “You can’t think how glad I am that you’re so happy.” Bertha smiled. “You’ve got such a kind heart, Fanny.”