What a life--and this was marriage! She thought of Colonel Ogden, of his stertorous breathing, his habits; he had a way of lunging over on to her side of the bed in his sleep, and when he woke in the morning his face was a mass of grey stubble. Why had she never thought of all these things before? She _had_ thought of them, but somehow she had never let the thoughts come out; now that she had ceased to sit on them they sprang up like so many jacks-in-the-box. And yet, after all, her James was no worse than other men; better, she supposed, in many respects. She believed he had been faithful to her; there was something in that. Certainly he had loved her once--if that sort of thing was love--but that was a long time ago. As she lay luxuriously in the brimming bath her thoughts went back. Things had been different in India. Joan had been born in India. Joan was thirteen now; she would soon be growing up--there were signs already. Joan so quiet, so reserved--Joan married, a year, five years of happiness perhaps and then this, or something very like it. Never! Joan should never marry. Milly, yes, but she could not tolerate the thought of it for Joan. Joan would just go on loving her; it would be the perfect relationship, Mother and Child. "Mary!" "What is it?" "Are you going to stay there all day?" The handle of the door was rattled violently. "Please don't do that, James; I'm still in my bath." "The devil you are!" Colonel Ogden whistled softly. Then he remembered the date and smiled. "Poor old Mary, such a damned snob, poor dear--oh well! We Routledges!" 2 Breakfast was late. How could it be otherwise? Had not Mrs. Ogden sat in the bath for at least half an hour? There had been no hot water when at last Colonel Ogden got into the bath-room, and a kettle had had to be boiled. All this had taken time. Milly and Joan watched their mother apprehensively. Joan scented a breakdown in the near offing, for Mrs. Ogden's hands were trembling. "Your father's breakfast, Joan; for heaven's sake ring the bell!" Joan rang it. "The master's breakfast, Alice?" "The kidneys aren't done." "Why not, Alice?" "There 'asn't been time!" "Nonsense, make haste. The colonel will be down in a minute." Alice banged the door, and Mrs. Ogden's eyes filled. Her courage had all run away with the bath water. She had been through hell, she told herself melodramatically; she had at last seen things as they were. Thump--thump and then thump--thump--that was James putting on his boots! Oh, where was the breakfast! Where were James's special dishes, the kidneys and the curried eggs; what _was_ Alice doing? Thump--thump--there it was again! She clasped her hands in an agony. "Joan, Joan, do go and see about breakfast." "It's all right, Mother, here it is."