“You see, when we married,” Cecily went on, in the same even voice, “Robert wanted me all to himself. He was quite unreasonable about it. He was hurt because I urged that we should live in town.... I tried to have some common-sense. I tried to look ahead--for both of us. I knew in my heart it would be bad for him--for any man--to have no circle, to drop out of things. But he wouldn’t see it. We needed only one another, he said. So I gave in at last, and we settled down here. And naturally we dropped out of all the town set. You know how easily one can do that, especially when there’s very little money. And we had very little indeed at first.” Rose nodded. “I know,” she said. “At first, of course, for the first year or more perhaps, it was Paradise. I needn’t bore you with all that.... Then at the end of the second year, baby came ... and I was awfully happy. Perhaps even then Robert was beginning to be bored--I don’t know. I was too happy to suspect it.” There was a long pause. As she talked, Cecily had drawn herself into the shadow, so that her face was hidden; when she spoke again her voice was almost inaudible. “She was a sweet baby, Rose.... Her hair....” She checked herself abruptly, with a half sob. Mrs. Summers’ hand touched hers. She knew the whole bitterness of the tragedy. Cecily’s life had been in danger at the birth of her little girl, and later she had written that this would be her only child. “I got very ugly after that,” she went on at last. “I fretted so. I couldn’t help it. I must have been very dull then. I dare say I didn’t amuse Robert.” Mrs. Summers made an impatient exclamation. “Ah, but it was a mistake!” cried Cecily; “men expect to be amused. If we want to keep them we must work hard.... And then when I did try to pull myself together and be cheerful, it was too late. Nothing I did pleased him. If I put on a pretty frock he never noticed. If I tried to talk in my old way--I used to be quite amusing once, wasn’t I, Rose?” She broke off with a pathetic little laugh. “When I fooled, you know, he was irritated, and asked me what on earth I was driving at. He would never let me talk about his work. He said it annoyed him to have it ‘pawed over.’” She stopped short, and Rose felt her trembling. “I can’t tell you all of it,” she whispered. “It hurts too much.” Mrs. Summers waited a few moments. “And lately he has begun to talk about the necessity for friendships,” she began, in a voice purposely hard and matter of fact. “Yes,” she continued, “while you were telling me about that girl and her theories it all sounded so familiar.” “She has adopted your husband’s theories, you think?” Cecily shook her head with a faint smile.