She looked at Pamela curiously, not quite sure what to make of her speech, and not liking it particularly. The children had just been taken away by Miss Maitland. Pamela had let them go reluctantly. Whatever her opinion as to the desirability of children, she was unquestionably devoted to her own. "They make a difference," Pamela insisted. "Of course they do. They interfere with one's comfort. It's good discipline for selfish people. Why, you silly person, you would be miserable without your babies." Pamela smiled drearily. "I suppose I should--now. But I sometimes wish they hadn't come... especially the boy," she added wistfully. Mrs Carruthers felt slightly uncomfortable. She had an instinctive dread of intimate confidences; and the tone of Pamela's plaint occurred to her as significant of a desire to unburden herself. If babies in the house upset Arnott's temper, she did not wish to hear about it. Arnott was a man whom she cordially disliked. It was not in the least surprising to her that Pamela was finding life with him less of an idyll than she had once believed it; the mystery was that she had not suffered disillusion earlier; the man was so absolutely selfish. "It isn't any use wishing," she replied with a downright commonsense that damped Pamela's disposition to be confidential. "And Blanche relieves you of all trouble. You were lucky to secure that girl. I knew she was a treasure. She is the kind of girl who deserves to have a home of her own to run. But men usually marry the helpless, ornamental women; they are connoisseurs merely in exteriors. Not that there is anything amiss with Blanche's exterior. Dickie admires her tremendously." "She is very useful," Pamela said. "The children like her." "Don't you?" "Oh! yes, of course." Pamela's tone was a little uncertain; it qualified her words, Mrs Carruthers thought. "One can't have everything," she went on, in the manner of one weighing advantages against disadvantages, and finding the balance fairly even. "She is an enormous help to me--indeed, I am growing to depend too much on her. But I don't see enough of the children since she came. When I am home and able to have them, she has some reason which interferes. It is always a sound reason. But there is so much discipline in the nursery now; it robs me of a good deal of enjoyment. The children don't belong to me any more." "Well," said Mrs Carruthers, "you can soon alter that." "It isn't so simple as it sounds," Pamela replied. "I tried at first; but one has to give way. It is all for the benefit of the children. It's no good employing any one like that, and interfering with her authority. She has to be with them always, and I only see them at odd moments." She broke off with a laugh.