"I will try," she faltered, half-frightened. Then her gay spirit reasserted itself. "But you are not going to expect me to stay at home and mend your socks and sew on your buttons the _whole_ time, are you? I may go to dances, and join in theatricals, and ride, and play tennis, and enjoy myself now and then, mayn't I?" She looked at him mischievously. He sighed rather hopelessly. "I'm too old for you, Trixie. I don't dance, and I can't act, though I certainly can ride and play tennis. I must confess I prefer staying at home to going out in the evening, though it will be a different matter now, altogether, going out with you." "Oh, you shan't be dragged forth when you don't want to go," she said, with mock encouragement. "Guy Greaves can always take me if you don't feel inclined to turn out. I've known Guy since we were both children. He's a dear boy, and he does dance so well. He had tango lessons when he was at home last summer, and he picked it up at once." George Coventry's face darkened. "No other man will take you out while _I_ am your husband!" he said violently. "Oh, George, are you going to be jealous?" she cried in genuine consternation. "I shall not be jealous unless you give me cause," he said heatedly. "But I have no intention of playing the rôle of the complaisant husband, if that is what you mean." "Oh, don't look so horrid and ogreish. If you can't trust me, you had better say so at once. If you imagine I am capable of doing anything that isn't cricket, we'd better agree to end our engagement. But I thought"--her voice broke and tears rose in her eyes--"I thought you really cared for me, and wanted me to be your wife and not your slave." She turned from him to conceal her tearful annoyance and agitation. Instantly he was all remorse and repentance. "What a brute I am! Trixie, darling, do try to understand. It's only because I love you so deeply, so truly, that I can't bear to think of your having even a pleasure that I can't share with you. I want all of you, Trixie, all your confidence and your thoughts, and your moods and your companionship. My life would be impossible now without you." She responded generously. "I know you didn't mean to be beastly," she said, smiling her forgiveness at him. "You must take me as I am or leave me. And don't forget that I am taking you as you are, too, cross old patch." She gave him a flippant little kiss on his chin. Then, with an exclamation of surprise and pleasure, she noticed the paper cone filled with violets that had been left on a chair and forgotten by her mother and Mrs. Greaves in the engrossment of their converse. "Oh, delicious things!" She took them up and smelt them, then held them out to Colonel Coventry. "How sweet they are! Don't you love violets? Do violets grow in India, George?" He recoiled from the fragrance as though it were some poisonous odour. "I can't endure them," he said shortly. * * * * *