He wondered if all young wives cried on an average three times a day and if all women twisted every remark into an insult directed against themselves, their taste, or their relations. There must be some who don't, he thought drearily; some women that you can talk to without having to remember not to say this or that. Oh well, it's my own fault, I suppose; I must make the best of it. He got up, came over to where Dora sat, and awkwardly patted her bowed head. "Don't cry," he said, and even as he said the words he wondered savagely how often he had said them since the day of his engagement. He pushed the thought away. "Don't cry," he repeated mechanically. "I must go and do some work in my study." "But you do like the house?" Dora looked up at him plaintively. "Of course I do," he answered reassuringly, and when he stumbled over a footstool on the way to the door, he put it tidily on one side instead of kicking it under the nearest table as he was tempted to do. By 1904, when Dora was expecting her first child, their positions were reversed. After one visit to her sister-in-law's new house in Sussex Square, Dora came back to Maida Vale discontented and jealous. She attacked Edwin that night after dinner with a complaint which could not fail to arouse his annoyance. "Oh, Edwin I went to tea with Edith to-day, and I do think it's dreadfully unfair that she and Rodney should have so much more money than we have." Edwin felt completely helpless. He knew by this time that if Dora felt a thing to be unfair, no amount of proof to the contrary would convince her, but he felt constrained to reason gently with her petulance which he supposed to be in part due to her condition. "I don't think you see it quite clearly," he urged, "Rodney and I both have the same allowance from Father, but for one thing he is three years older than me, and then being in the Works with Uncle Hugh he is bound to make more money than I am at first." "I don't see why," said Dora rebelliously. "The Bar's always slow at the beginning," explained Edwin. "You know I've often told you it may be a long time before I make a decent income." "It seems very cruel to me," said Dora, her voice trembling with self-pity. "Here am I boxed up in this little house, and there's Edith with her lovely new drawing-room and two perfect nurseries." "But I thought you liked this house?" Edwin was upset at the new development. "I don't; I hate it. It's a mean little house, and I know perfectly well that Edith looks down on it, and me, and you, and everything. But there's no use speaking to you; you won't do anything about it." She left the room, holding her handkerchief to her eyes in a gesture so familiar that Edwin did not notice it. He sat still, oppressed by the bitterness of his thoughts. All his youthful flamboyance was gone, and with its going he had gained immensely in appearance.