Dot did not speak, she hardly heard the words in fact, only the cold tone they were spoken in. She wondered vaguely if her love had been dying for a long time or if to-night was only the beginning. She hoped she should not live long, she felt quite glad to think the doctor had said she had no constitution; how _could_ she go on living if calm careless affection was going to take the place of the wonderful love that had once made a glory of their every hour. They had both been incredulous of the existence of such a place as the dead level of matrimony--was this it indeed they had already come upon? 'Well?' said Larrie, 'I'm waiting, Dot, are you going to give it up?' She gave a little start. 'What do you mean?' 'Give up being so childish, will you try?' 'Oh yes,' she said dully. That was very easy to promise, she felt so old, so very much a woman to-night. Larrie was only half satisfied with that quiet 'Yes.' Where was his little loving eager girl gone who would have done anything in the world once had he asked it, done it gladly and rejoiced at its difficulty, flung her arms round his neck and asked to be tried still more? Only that spiritless 'Yes,' was her answer to-night. He stifled a sigh of bitter disappointment. This was _marriage_, he supposed. 'It's beginning to rain,' he said heavily, 'go in.' She turned to go,--they had been standing for the last few minutes near the old broken seat. Never yet had they parted after the making up of a quarrel without a kiss, and he would not omit it now. But he stooped his head in almost an awkward way down to her bent one, and it was not the kiss of a lover. She merely submitted a drooped cheek to his lips, and went slowly up to the house alone. CHAPTER VI LARRIE THE LOAFER 'She had A heart--how shall I say? too soon made glad, Too easily impressed: she liked what e'er She looked on, and her looks went everywhere.' Larrie and Dot had come upon the great rock that lies near the beginning of the matrimonial path of all those who marry for love. Oh the wonderful capacity they had in those days for torturing themselves! Larrie used to brood continually in secret over the change that had come into their lives; his manner grew cold and indifferent and he consumed as much tobacco as a man long years in the bush, and Dot used to shed hot, angry, grieving tears in private and devote herself to the management of the house or the baby in the time that once she had always devoted to her husband. Once in one of the passionate little outbursts she was subject to, she scoffed at him for his idleness. 'No wonder you are so fault-finding, Larrie,' she said, 'staying at home day after day like an old maid. Other husbands don't tie themselves to their wives' apron-strings as you do.' It was a little unjust of her, this pettish speech, though she had received provocation.