Reader, I went to Turkistan, and was married there, and lived there and in Anatolia for many happy years. But that is another story. I did not start on that voyage of discovery till several months after that conversation. I had battered myself to pieces against the prison bars of my misery, and health ruthlessly driven away was slow to return. As I lived with Ted and Essie I became aware that he was becoming enormously successful in money matters. There were mysterious expeditions, buyings and sellings of properties, which necessitated sudden journeys. Immense transactions passed through his competent hands, and presently the possibility of a country house was spoken of. He talked mysteriously of a wonderful old manor house in Essex, which he had come upon entirely by chance, which would presently come into the market, and which might be acquired much below its value, so anxious was the owner--a foreign bigwig--to part with it at once. Ted prosed away about this house from teatime till bedtime. Essie listened dutifully, but it was I who asked all the questions. Ted hurried away next morning, not to return for several days, one of which he hoped to spend in Essex. "You don't seem much interested about the country house," I said at tea time. I was slightly irritated by the indifference which seemed to enwrap Essie's whole existence. "Don't you care about it? It must be beautiful from Ted's account." "If he likes it I shall like it." "What a model wife you are. Have you no wishes of your own, no tastes of your own, Essie?" She looked at me with tranquil eyes. "I think Ted is happy," she said, "and I am so glad the children are both exactly like him." "Yes, but--" "There is no _but_ in my case. Ted rescued me from an evil entanglement and eased my mother's life. And he set his kind heart on marrying me. I told him I could not give him much, but he did not mind. I don't think men like Ted understand that there is anything more that--that might be given; which makes a very wonderful happiness when it _is_ given. Our marriage was on the buying and selling plane. We each put out our wares. I saw very well that he would be impossible--for me at least--to live with unless I gave way to him entirely. Dear Ted is a benevolent tyrant. He would become a bully if he were opposed, and bullies are generally miserable. I don't oppose him. I think he is content with his bargain, and as fond of me as a man can be of a lay figure. My impression is that he regards me as a model wife." "He does, he does. He is absolutely, blissfully happy." "He would be just as happy with another woman," said Essie, "if she were almost inanimate. It was a comfort to me to remember that when I nearly died three years ago." "Yes, Ted is all right," I said, "but how about you? I used to think you were absolutely characterless, and humdrum, but I know better now. Don't you--miss anything?"