a couple that made one disbelieve in anarchy, wild oats, or wild animals. People smiled with the satisfaction of approval when they came into a room; here were security, decorum; here were civilization and politeness; here was a member of the civic corporation, a burgher to admire and to respect. He had a grave, courtly manner, slightly indulgent towards women, which they found not unattractive, although they knew that he varied it towards none of them, whether plain or pretty, staid or skittish. There was always the same grave smile on his lips, always the same sustained, controlled interest in his eyes; attention, perhaps, rather than interest; the line was a difficult one to draw. The type of man who made other men say, “Wish we had more fellows like him,” and of whom the women said amongst themselves, “A puzzling man, somehow, isn’t he? So quiet. One never knows what he is really thinking, or whether he isn’t laughing at us all. Do you suppose, though, that he has ever really _felt_?” The madcap things she did! He recalled that evening at the railway station, when under the glare of the arc-lights she had danced up to a ticket-collector—she in her little travelling hat and her furs and the soft luxury that always seemed to surround her: “When does the next train start?” “Where for, miss?” “Oh, it doesn’t matter where for—just the next train?” And they had gone to Stroud. “This Patience never seems to come out,” said the voice proceeding from under the lamp. “No, dear?” “No. I think I shall have to give it up for an easier one. It’s so irritating when things won’t go right.” “I should try an easier one to-morrow.” “To-morrow? Oh, I see, you want to go to bed. I must say, I should rather have liked to try it this evening, but if you want to go to bed....” “No, dear, of course not; try your Patience by all means.” “No, dear; I wouldn’t dream of it, as you want to go to bed. Besides, to-morrow will do just as well. You will go round, won’t you, and see that everything is properly locked up?” “But I am dragging you to bed when you don’t want to go.” “Not a bit, Paul, I assure you; it is quite all right. I am really quite sleepy myself. I should have liked to try the Patience, perhaps, but to-morrow will do just as well.” He held the door open gravely for her, but there were several things she must attend to before leaving the room: the fire must be poked down so that no spark could be spat out on to the hearth-rug; the drawer of her writing-table must be locked so that the housemaid should not read her letters or examine her bills when dusting the room before breakfast on the following morning; and the book which she had been reading must be replaced in the bookcase. He endured all this ritual without betraying any irritation, watching even the final pats which she gave to the cushions of his chair.