On his return Edward appeared not to see that his wife was out of temper. His spirits were always equable, and he was an unobservant person. She answered him in mono-syllables, but he chattered away, delighted at having driven a good bargain with a man in Blackstable. Bertha longed for him to remark upon her condition so that she might burst out with reproaches, but Edward was hopelessly dense--or else he saw and was unwilling to give her an opportunity to speak. Bertha, almost for the first time, was seriously angry with her husband and it frightened her--suddenly Edward seemed an enemy, and she wished to inflict some hurt upon him. She did not understand herself--what was going to happen next? Why wouldn’t he say something so that she might pour forth her woes and then be reconciled! The day wore on and she preserved a sullen silence; her heart was beginning to ache terribly--the night came, and still Edward made no sign; she looked about for a chance of beginning the quarrel, but nothing offered. Bertha pretended to go to sleep and she did not give him the kiss, the never-ending kiss of lovers which they always exchanged. Surely he would notice it, surely he would ask what troubled her, and then she could at last bring him to his knees. But he said nothing; he was dog-tired after a hard day’s work, and without a word went to sleep--in five minutes Bertha heard his heavy, regular breathing. Then she broke down; she could never sleep without saying good-night to him, without the kiss of his lips. “He’s stronger than I,” she said, “because he doesn’t love me.” Bertha wept silently; she could not bear to be angry with her husband. She would submit to anything rather than pass the night in wrath, and the next day as unhappily as this. She was entirely humbled. At last, unable any longer to bear the agony, she woke him. “Eddie, you’ve not said good-night to me.” “By Jove, I forgot all about it,” he answered, sleepily. Bertha stifled a sob. “Hulloa, what’s the matter?” he said. “You’re not crying just because I forgot to kiss you--I was awfully fagged, you know.” He really had noticed nothing whatever; while she was passing through utter distress he had been as happily self-satisfied as usual. But the momentary recurrence of Bertha’s anger was quickly stilled. She could not afford now to be proud. “You’re not angry with me?” she said. “I can’t sleep unless you kiss me.” “Silly girl!” he whispered. “You do love me, don’t you?” “Yes.” He kissed her as she loved to be kissed, and in the delight of it her anger was quite forgotten. “I can’t live unless you love me. Oh, I wish I could make you understand how I love you.... We’re friends again now, aren’t we?” “We haven’t ever been otherwise.” Bertha gave a sigh of relief, and lay in his arms completely happy. A minute more and Edward’s breathing told her that he had already fallen asleep; she dared not move for fear of waking him. * * * * *