Fay did not reply, so I continued: "And it will be so nice for you too, dear heart, always to have a woman at hand to turn to in any trouble or difficulty." "I shall have you, and that is all I want." "But I am only a stupid man, and could never understand and help you as another woman could. I don't believe that any man is sufficiently fine and subtle properly to understand a woman: especially when there is such a difference between them in age, as there is, alas! between you and me." "There is more difference between Annabel and me: five years more." "But she is a woman, and women can always understand each other." "I see. Because there is too much difference between forty-two and eighteen, you are trying to make forty-two plus forty-seven equal to eighteen. You always had a wonderful head for sums, Reggie!" And with a laugh Fay whisked herself off the settee, and went out of the hall. I could not understand her present mood, and the fact that I could not understand it filled me with an agony that after all I was too old and dull and stupid ever to make her happy. Then, with a blessed sense of relief, I remembered that I should not be alone in my sacred task of perfecting and beautifying the young life that I had dared to take into my keeping; Annabel would be always at hand to assist my clumsy masculine attempts, and to correct my stupid masculine blunders. And I thought that between us we could succeed in making my darling happy; at any rate, we would try our best. But a fresh feminine surprise awaited me. Surely women are the most incomprehensible creatures, and on the time-honoured principle of "set a thief to catch a thief," it is only a woman who can be expected to fathom a woman. To my amazement Ponty--whom I expected to be lifted into the seventh heaven of delight by the news that Annabel would stay on at the Manor--raised strong objections to this admirable arrangement. I really couldn't have believed such a thing of the faithful Ponty, if I hadn't heard her with my own ears. "I hear it is settled for Miss Annabel to go on living here after your marriage, Master Reggie," she said to me on one of my frequent visits to the old nursery--a room which had suddenly acquired a new and wonderful sanctity in my eyes. "Of course," I replied. "The Manor wouldn't be the Manor without Miss Annabel. I could never think of allowing her to leave it. I should have thought you would have been the first to rejoice at the news that she was staying on." "Well, then, I'm not, Master Reggie: neither the first nor the last nor any of the rejoicing sort at all. When folks are married, they'd best have their home to themselves, or else trouble'll come of it." "No trouble possibly could come of Miss Annabel's being anywhere. She could never bring anything but peace and comfort, and that you know as well as I do." I felt that I did well to be angry with Ponty just then.