"And what if it is?" said Edward Henry, jealous for reputations, including his own. "It will have run for a hundred and one nights. And right through August, too! No modern poetry play ever did run as long in London, and no other ever will. I’ve given the intellectual theatre the biggest ad. it ever had. And I’ve made money on it. I should have made more if I’d ended the run a fortnight ago, but I was determined to pass the hundredth night. And I shall do!" "And what are ye for giving next?" "I’m not for giving anything next, Doc. I’ve let the Regent for five years at seven thousand five hundred pounds a year to a musical comedy syndicate, since you’re so curious. And when I’ve paid the ground rent and taxes and repairs and something toward a sinking-fund, and six per cent. on my capital I shall have not far off two thousand pounds a year clear annual profit. You may say what you like, but that’s what I call business!" It was a remarkable fact that, while giving undemanded information to Doctor Stirling, Edward Henry was in reality defending himself against the accusations of his wife--accusations which, by the way, she had never uttered, but which he thought he read sometimes in her face. He might of course have told his wife these agreeable details directly, and in private. But he was a husband, and, like many husbands, apt to be indirect. Nellie said not a word. "Then you’re giving up London?" The doctor rose to depart. "I am," said Edward Henry, almost blushing. "Why?" "Well," the genius answered. "Those theatrical things are altogether too exciting and risky! And they’re such queer people--Great Scott! I’ve come out on the right side, as it happens, but--well, I’m not as young as I was. I’ve done with London. The Five Towns are good enough for me." Nellie, unable to restrain a note of triumph, indiscreetly remarked with just the air of superior sagacity that in a wife drives husbands to fury and to foolishness: "I should think so, indeed!" Edward Henry leaped from his chair, and the swansdown quilt swathed his slippered feet. "Nell," he exploded, clenching his hand. "If you say that once more in that tone--once more, mind!--I’ll go and take a flat in London to-morrow!" The doctor crackled with laughter. Nellie smiled. Even Robert, who had completely ignored the doctor’s entrance, glanced round with creased brows. "Sit down, dearest," Nellie quietly enjoined the invalid. But he would not sit down, and, to show his independence, he helped his wife to escort Stirling into the lobby. Robert, now alone with the ignored young clerk tapping at the table, turned toward him, and in his deliberate, judicial, disdainful, childish voice said to him: "Isn’t Father a funny man?" THE END THE NOVELS OF ARNOLD BENNETT THE OLD WIVES’ TALE: A Novel of Life. _A New Edition with Special Preface by Arnold Bennett._ Price $1.50 Net