"So you wanted a quiet quarter of an hour in which to insult me," she said. He pointed to a chair. "Sit down, Marie," he said. "Supposing I choose not to?" "We will not suppose anything so absurd. There! Why not have done it at once? As I was saying, this will inevitably happen, and so I should advise you to accept it. That will entail certain alterations in your--your general style. I have often heard you criticising rather mercilessly the world you live in; Mildred tells me you were doing so this afternoon. I don't mind your doing that: you have a racy sort of way of talking, and no doubt all your criticisms are perfectly true. But with the return of Jim Spencer, I should advise you either to drop that sort of thing, or else not see very much of him." He paused, and flicked the end of his cigar-ash over the balcony. "Not that I mind your doing either the one or the other in themselves," he continued, "but to do both will show a want of wisdom." "Ah, you don't mind what I do, but only what people say!" "Exactly. You have quite grasped my meaning." Again she rose from the chair in which she had sat at his bidding. "That is all, then, I imagine," she said. "Five minutes was enough." "Yes, for what I had to say. I thought you might like to talk over it." "I have not the least desire to." Jack reached out his hand for an early edition of the evening paper, and unfolded it. "Perhaps you would tell me what you mean to do." "I have no intention of doing anything. Certainly I have no intention of discussing the question with you." Jack did not show the slightest impatience. "There's no use in being so nettled about it," he observed. "If a woman behaves in a certain way, she gets talked about. That is all. I have indicated to you that if you do certain things you will get talked about; I do not want that." "From your point of view, I wonder why. Mildred is talked about, so I am told; but I never knew that you considered that a reason for not seeing her a good deal." For one moment he looked quickly up, then turned back a fluttering leaf of his paper. "Quite true. And if you were anybody else's wife, I should not mind how much you were talked about. But you are mine--it happens you are mine." Marie did not reply. "Somehow the matter has grown to larger dimensions than I had intended," he added. "I only meant to give you quite a friendly and, in a way, insignificant word of warning. But somehow you have put it all into capital letters. There, go out for your drive. Really, Marie, I had not the slightest conception you would make such an affair of it." "You think I have been unreasonable." "I do." She made a great effort with herself. "Very well, I will forget all about it. You see, we rub each other up the wrong way, Jack. It is a great pity." "Yes. But it's not worth bothering about."