"Yes, he's worried and restless, Tony. He's so devoted to Judith and so anxious to make her happy, her dissatisfaction rests on him like a weight. Don't you see that every time you see them together?" "Every time--and more plainly. What's the matter with her anyhow, Julie? She seemed promising enough as a girl. You certainly found enough in her to make you two congenial. She's no more like you than--electric light is like sunshine," said Anthony, picking up the simile with a laugh and a glance of appreciation. "Judith shines in the surroundings she was born and brought up in, misses them, and doesn't know how to adapt herself to any others. She ought to have been the wife of some high official--she could entertain royally and have everybody at her feet." "Magnificent characteristics, but mighty unavailable in the present circumstances. It carries out my electric-light comparison. I prefer the sunlight--and I have it.--Poor Carey!" "We'll hope," said Juliet. "And if we have the smallest chance to help, we'll do it." But, as Anthony had anticipated, there was small chance to help. Meeting Carey a fortnight later, Anthony inquired after the new home, and Carey replied with apparent lack of enthusiasm that the house had been leased for a term of three years, with refusal of the purchase at the expiration of the time. He explained that Judith had been unwilling to burn her bridges by buying the place outright, and that he thought perhaps the present plan was the better one--under these conditions. But the fact that the house was not their own made it seem unwise to expend very much upon alterations beyond those of paint and paper. With the prospect of a sale the owner had unwillingly consented to replace the gingerbread porch with one in better style, but refused to do more. The big window, with its abominable topping of cheap coloured glass, was to remain for the present. "And I think this whole arrangement is bound to defeat my purpose," said Carey unhappily. "The very changes we can't afford to make in a rented house are the ones Judith needs to have made to reconcile her to the experiment. She says she feels ill every time she comes to the house and sees that window. She wants a porcelain sink in the kitchen. She would like speaking-tubes and a system of electric bells. We're to have a servant--if we can find her. We've put green paper on all the downstairs rooms, and it turns out the wrong green. I wanted a sort of corn-colour that looked more cheerful, but it seems green is the only thing. I don't know what's the matter with me. Perhaps I'm bilious. Green seems to be all right in your house, but in mine it makes me want to go outdoors." "That's precisely what you should do," Anthony advised cheerfully. "Get outdoors all you can. Start your garden. Mow your lawn yourself. Make over that gravel path to your front door."