"Of course I am; dreadfully dependent on all sorts of trivial things. Cigarettes and you and good cooking and a glass of port every night." He smiled at her, but her answering smile was a little formal. "Of course I know you're only teasing, Rodney, but still there is a certain amount of truth in what you say. I've noticed you are apt to rely too much on things like smoking and port and so on, and I've always been brought up to believe that as soon as you feel yourself becoming a slave to a habit you should drop it at once." Rodney looked blank for a moment. "Don't let's bother about that now," he said. "Bad habits are very pleasant after all, and you don't want to change me the minute you've married me, do you?" He spoke lightly, but Edith answered in a serious vein. "Not all at once, of course, dear, but I do hope I shall be able to influence you a great deal." Rodney missed the austere note in her voice, and laughed. "Of course you will," he said enthusiastically. "You shall influence me as much as you like, Mrs. Greene. I love you immensely and you shall do just what you please." "No, but seriously, Rodney," persisted Edith. "It isn't a case of doing what I please; we must try to improve each other. A marriage where both people don't improve is a failure." "Darling, you're quoting your mother, and anyhow it's nonsense," said Rodney. "Besides I want to kiss you." The rest of the journey was tranquil, and in the bustle of sorting our their luggage at the Station, Rodney forgot to light a cigarette. It was with a genuine sigh of relief that he followed Edith into their bedroom at the hotel, strode over to the window, drew back the curtains to look out over the dark harbour and fumbled again for his cigarette case. Edith noticed the gesture. She came and stood beside him and gently took the case out of his hand. "Darling Rodney," she said, "I know you like me always to say what I think, even if it's a little difficult." She stopped and Rodney flung an arm round her and said encouragingly: "What is it, dear?" "I must say, Rodney, that it would seem to me quite wrong and not respectful, for you to smoke in my bedroom." "But hang it, darling, it's my bedroom, too," Rodney expostulated. Edith blushed deeply. "Yes, of course," she murmured. "Yes, in a way it is, but still it wouldn't be quite nice for you to smoke in it." Her confusion was attractive. Rodney felt an ecstatic thrill at the thought that this was the first time that they had shared a bedroom together, and he held her to him and kissed her passionately. But all Edith's rebukes did not lead to kissing. When they returned from their honeymoon Rodney found himself enmeshed in a net of feminine dislikes, restrictions and vetoes.