"You're really pleased, aren't you?" she asked, and an unusual note of wistfulness in her voice banished his resentment. "Of course I am, my darling," he said warmly. "I'm delighted. I'll toe the line all right from now onwards. You won't catch me smoking up here again I promise you." Edith unbent completely. The opposition had wilted; she could afford to be generous. "Dearest Rodney," she said affectionately, "you know how much I care for you. I only speak about these depressing things because I feel I ought to. And now I must go to bed." She disengaged herself gently from his arms, and moved towards the door. "You'll come at once, won't you?" she said. "I do get so tired of waiting while you loiter over your undressing. Don't be long, dear." She shut the door quietly and Rodney hurried out of his clothes into pyjamas, determined not to risk another reproach merely for the pleasure of ending the day in that atmosphere of contented leisure which he found so congenial. III It was three years before Rodney fully appreciated the fact that providence would always win Edith's battles for her, and would moreover give such a twist to her victory that the loser was often obliged to admit that he had been wrong. One year after their marriage, when their son Geoffrey was a few weeks old, Rodney was still fighting for supremacy in their common life. Edith was slow in recovering her strength; she was at the stage of having breakfast in bed and a long rest in the afternoon, and the doctor advised her to go with the baby for a change of air. At this juncture a letter arrived from Rodney's mother inviting her daughter-in-law and her new grandson for a long visit, as soon as they were well enough to face the journey. Rodney went cheerfully up to his wife's bedroom, carrying the letter, and sat down on the edge of her bed. "Here's a letter from Mother," he said. "She wants you and the boy to go and stay for as long as you can, just as soon as you are able. Isn't that nice and convenient?" "Well, I don't quite know," answered Edith slowly. "I wonder why she didn't write directly to me." "Oh, no special reason; I suppose she just happened to be writing to me so she asked me to send you down to her for a bit, and really it fits in very well; the doctor seems to want you to go to the country for a week or two." "Oh I see," said Edith, "it's quite a casual invitation, is it?" "Well, I don't quite know what you mean by casual. You know Mother is awfully keen to see the baby, and you know she hasn't been well enough to come to town, so in the circumstances it seems to me very natural. Shall I write for you and say you'll be delighted to go next week?" "No, don't do that, dear," said Edith firmly. "I'm not quite sure that it would be the wisest thing to do. As you say, your Mother hasn't been well, and I'm not very strong yet, so it would really be rather a houseful of invalids."