"I have," said Jinny contumaciously, "and I like her." "What do you think? She's brought a dog on a chain and a beast of a cat in a basket." Jinny abstained from sympathy, and Tanqueray grew grave. "I wish I knew what was the matter with Rose," he said. "She doesn't seem to get much better. The doctor swears it's only liver; but he's a silly ass." "Tanks, there's nothing the matter really, except--the poor little bird wants to build its nest. It wants sticks and straws and feathers and things----" "Do you mean I've got to go and find a beastly house?" "Let her go and find it." "I would in a minute--only I'm so hard up." "Of course you'll be hard up if you go on living in rooms like this." "That's what she says. But when she talks about a house she means that she'll do all the work in it." "Why not?" said Jane. "Why not? I married her because I wasn't going to have her worked to death in that damned lodging-house of her uncle's." "You married her because you loved her," said Jane quietly. "Well--of course. And I'm not going to let my wife cook my dinner and make my bed and empty my slops. How can I?" "She'll die if you don't, George." "Die?" "She'll get horribly ill. She's ill now because she can't run about and sweep and dust and cook dinners. She's dying for love of all the beautiful things you won't let her have--pots and pans and carpet-sweepers and besoms. You don't want her to die of an unhappy passion for a besom?" "I don't want to see her with a besom." Jane pleaded. "She'd look so pretty with it, George. Just think how pretty she'd look in a little house, playing with a carpet-sweeper." "On her knees, scrubbing the kitchen floor----" "You'd have a woman in to scrub." "Carrying the coals?" "_You'd_ carry the coals, George." "By Jove, I never thought of that. I suppose I could." He pondered. "You see," he said, "she wants to live at Hampstead." "You can't cut her off from her own people." "I'm not cutting her off. She goes to see them." "She'll go to see them if you live at Hampstead. If you live here they'll come and see you. For she'll be ill and they'll have to." Tanqueray looked at her, not without admiration. "Jinny, you're ten times cleverer than I." "In some things, Tanks, I am. And so is that wife of yours." "She's--very sensible. I suppose it's sensible to be in love with a carpet-sweeper." She shook her head at him. "Much more sensible than being in love with _you_." His eyes evaded her. She rose. "Oh, Tanks, you goose. Can't you see that it's you she's in love with--and that's why she _must_ have a carpet-sweeper?" With that she left him. He followed her to the doorstep where he turned abruptly from her departure.