"I suppose that's it. For the first few years it was all right. When I got angry he only laughed; then he began to get impatient himself, and this last year things have been going from bad to worse. When he spoke straight out it was easier; there was a row royal, and a grand `make up' at the end, but now he's so cold and calm." Esmeralda's lip trembled at the remembrance of the scene downstairs of the averted figure writing stolidly at the desk. She stared before her in silence for a dismal moment, then added sharply: "And what in the world set him off at a tangent this morning, of all others? There have been dozens of times when I should have expected him to be furious, and he's been as mild as a lamb; and then of a sudden, when I was all innocent and unsuspicious, to flare up like that! There's no sense in it!" "It's always the way with men. You can't reckon on them," announced Pixie, with the seasoned air of one who has endured three husbands at least. "Dick's the same--an angel of patience till just the moment when you've made sure of him, and then in a moment he snaps off your head--my head, I mean, never Bridgie's. There's too much--bloom." She put her little head on one side and pursed her lips in thought, with the characteristic Pixie air which carried Joan back to the days of childhood. "Now, isn't it odd, Esmeralda, how people cultivate almost every good quality, and leave love to chance? They practise patience and unselfishness, but seem to think love is beyond control. It comes, or--it goes. _Tant mieux_! _Tant pis_! My dear, if I married a husband who loved me as Geoffrey loved you, it would be the big work of my life to keep him at it, and I'd expect it to _be_ work! You get nothing worth having without trouble, so why should you expect an exception for the very _best_ thing? And the poor man deserves some encouragement. _I'd give it to him_!" Joan's lips twisted into a sad smile. "You understand a great deal, Pixie--more than I do, it seems, even after seven years! I never looked at things in that light. I just expected Geoffrey to keep on adoring, whatever I did. What made you think such things?" "Nature!" said Pixie promptly. "And, my dear, I'm clever at loving--I always was. It's my only gift, and I _have_ studied it just as other people study drawing and music. What you have to do, Esmeralda, is to forget everything and every one else for a while, and comfort Geoffrey. Don't make a scene and worry the poor man. Don't make a grand programme of reformation, for that will put him off at the start. Just begin to-night and be sweet to him for a change. If you feel temper coming on, have it out on me! I'm used to you from a child, and if I get too much of it I can always run away and leave you; Geoffrey can't. It's mean to take advantage of a man that's bound."