He considered this at breakfast--his wife behind a tall Sheffield coffee urn--and he was aware of the cold edge of a distasteful possibility. The thought enveloped him insidiously, like the fog which often rolled through the Narrows and over the town, that the Canderays were secretly impoverished, and Honora had married him only for his money. Jason was not resentful of this in itself, since he had been searching for a motive he could accept, but it struck him in a peculiarly vulnerable spot--his admiration for his wife, for Honora. The idea, although he assured himself that the thing was readily comprehensible, somehow managed to diminish her, to tarnish the luster she held for him. It was far beneath the elevation on which Cottarsport had placed the Canderays; and he suffered a distinct sense of loss, a feeling of the staleness and disappointment of living. The more he considered this explanation the more he was convinced of its probability. A great deal of his genuine warmth in his marriage evaporated. Still--Honora had married him, she had given herself in return for what material advantage he might bring; and he would have to perform his part thoroughly. He ought to have known that---- What he must do now was to save them both from any painful revelation by keeping for ever hid that he was aware of her purpose, he must never expose himself by a word or act; and he must make her understand that whatever he had was absolutely hers. It would be necessary for her to go to the money with entire freedom and without any accounting. This, he found, was not so easy to establish as he thought. Honora was his wife, but nevertheless there was a well marked reticence between them, a formal nicety with which he was heartily in accord. He couldn't just thrust his fortune before her on the table. He hesitated through the day, on the verge of various blunders; and then, in the evening, said in a studied causality of manner: “What do you think about fixing some of the rooms over new? You might get tired of seeing the same things for so long. I saw real elegant furniture in Boston.” She looked about indifferently. “I think I wouldn't like it changed,” she remarked, almost in the manner of a defense. “I suppose it does seem worn to you; but I'm used to it; there are so many associations. I am certain I'd be lost in new hangings.” Jason was so completely silenced by her reply that he felt he must have shown some confusion, for her gaze deliberately turned to him. “Is there any particular thing you would like repaired?” she inquired. “No, of course not,” he said hastily. “I think it's all splendid. I wouldn't change a curtain, only--but....” He cursed himself for a clumsy fool while Honora continued to study him. He endeavored to shield himself behind the trivial business of lighting a cheroot; but he felt Honora's query searching him out. Finally, to his extreme dismay, he heard her say: “Jason, I believe you think I married you for money!”