He had fancied that these sufferings would be effaced by the milder atmosphere of their last weeks together; but felicity did not soften Jane. Not for a moment did she relax her dominion: she simply widened it to include a new subject. Mr. Budd found himself under orders with the others; and a new fear assailed Lethbury as he saw Jane assume prenuptial control of her betrothed. Lethbury had never felt any strong personal interest in Mr. Budd; but, as Jane's prospective husband, the young man excited his sympathy. To his surprise, he found that Mrs. Lethbury shared the feeling. "I'm afraid he may find Jane a little exacting," she said, after an evening dedicated to a stormy discussion of the wedding arrangements. "She really ought to make some concessions. If he _wants_ to be married in a black frock-coat instead of a dark gray one--" She paused and looked doubtfully at Lethbury. "What can I do about it?" he said. "You might explain to him--tell him that Jane isn't always--" Lethbury made an impatient gesture. "What are you afraid of? His finding her out or his not finding her out?" Mrs. Lethbury flushed. "You put it so dreadfully!" Her husband mused for a moment; then he said with an air of cheerful hypocrisy: "After all, Budd is old enough to take care of himself." But the next day Mrs. Lethbury surprised him. Late in the afternoon she entered the library, so breathless and inarticulate that he scented a catastrophe. "I've done it!" she cried. "Done what?" "Told him." She nodded toward the door. "He's just gone. Jane is out, and I had a chance to talk to him alone." Lethbury pushed a chair forward and she sank into it. "What did you tell him? That she is _not_ always--" Mrs. Lethbury lifted a tragic eye. "No; I told him that she always _is_--" "Always _is_--?" "Yes." There was a pause. Lethbury made a call on his hoarded philosophy. He saw Jane suddenly reinstated in her evening seat by the library fire; but an answering chord in him thrilled at his wife's heroism. "Well--what did he say?" Mrs. Lethbury's agitation deepened. It was clear that the blow had fallen. "He...he said...that we...had never understood Jane... or appreciated her..." The final syllables were lost in her handkerchief, and she left him marvelling at the mechanism of a woman. After that, Lethbury faced the future with an undaunted eye. They had done their duty--at least his wife had done hers--and they were reaping the usual harvest of ingratitude with a zest seldom accorded to such reaping. There was a marked change in Mr. Budd's manner, and his increasing coldness sent a genial glow through Lethbury's system. It was easy to bear with Jane in the light of Mr. Budd's disapproval.