While Edith was at Bognor with the nurse and baby, Mrs. Greene had a second and more serious attack of pain which proved to be not a chill, but appendicitis, necessitating an immediate operation. Edith's first letter to her husband was full of sympathy for his anxiety; her second expressed pleasure at her mother-in-law's recovery; but on her return she could not refrain from saying: "And wasn't it a blessing, darling, that you finally abandoned your absurd plan of sending us to your Mother for a rest?" To which Rodney could only answer lamely: "Yes, as things turned out I suppose it was a good thing you didn't go." Two years after their marriage he no longer attempted to impose his wishes on Edith, but he still fought to protect his own liberty of action. In the house, in all matters pertaining to it, and in the conduct of their joint life, he deferred to her completely. He still, however, insisted on an annual fishing holiday without her, he frequented his club in spite of her disapproval, and he was loyal to several friendships which she deplored. It was over one of these that Providence again played a hand for Edith. Her opening gambit was tentative. Rodney came home one evening with a healthy colour in his cheeks. "There's spring in the air to-night," he said. "I walked all the way home and it was fine. By jove, I'll soon have to begin looking out my rods if I'm going to get ready for Easter." "You're not going with Jim Turner again this year, are you?" asked Edith gravely. "Well, I haven't said anything to him lately; I haven't seen him at the club as a matter of fact, but of course it's an understood thing between us that if we can get away, we go off together in April for a week or so." "I don't think he can possibly expect your company this year," said Edith firmly. Rodney looked at her cautiously. "I don't know why you should say that," he said, "Of course Jim will be expecting me to join up with him." Edith plunged into her subject. "Have you considered at all that if you go away with him it will look as if you approved of his conduct these last few months." "I don't know what you mean," mumbled Rodney, "I've known old Jim for years, and he's all right." "But you must know that he's been making his wife very unhappy all this winter." "I know she makes him pretty unhappy; she's a hard-mouthed, bitter-looking creature." Edith's colour heightened. "Really, Rodney," she said, "you force me to be indelicate, and to speak plainly. Do you not know that Jim Turner has been behaving disgracefully with an actress." Rodney looked uncomfortable. "I don't want to know anything about his private affairs," he said. "Jim's a jolly good sort anyhow, and, what's more, I'd like to know how you got hold of all this stuff about him and his actress."