When first she began to think of Field’s, which was when she had been nine months away from Field’s, she would let her mind run upon it freely, as it would. One day, thus thinking upon it, she brought up her thoughts as it were with a round turn. She must not think so much about Field’s--not like that. She sighed, and with the same abruptness of mental action checked her sigh; she must not regret Field’s--not like that. It was a fateful prohibition. It was the discovery to herself, as to Eve of the tree by the serpent, of a temptation seductive and forbidden. Thereafter “like that” her mind, missing no day nor no night, was often found by her to be there. The quality that made “like that” not seemly to her, increased, at each return, its potency. It became very difficult to drag her mind away. It became impossible to drag her mind away. Her governance of her mind became infected and it became not necessary to think it necessary to drag her mind away. She had not visited Field’s since she had left. Mr. Sturgiss and Mr. Field had written to her reproaching her for carrying to such lengths of neglect her desertion of them, and she had responded banteringly but without a call. One day (she had lain much awake on the previous night) she at breakfast told Harry she had the idea of going that afternoon to see how Field’s was getting on. She was surprised at his supplement to his reply. The children had left the room. He first agreed with her that the idea was good. “Yes, rather; why not?” was the expression he used. He then said, surprising her, “Rosalie, you’ve never, have you, regretted?” Her surprise framed for her her reply. “Why ever should you ask that?” “I’ve thought you’ve not been looking very well lately.” “But what’s the connection, Harry?” “Fretting?” She smiled. “I’m not the fretting sort.” He was perfectly satisfied. “I knew you’d tell me if you were. Everything going well?” “Fine.” He shot out his arms with a luxurious stretching gesture. “Mice and Mumps, it’s been fine for me, I can tell you. Fine, fine!” How happy he looked! How handsome he looked! Her thought was “Dear Harry!” He got up and began to set about his departure. She went with him into the hall and she called up the stairs, “Children, father’s going.” They came bounding down. He joked and played with them. He loved this custom, now long established. She brushed his hat, also a rite she knew he loved. He kissed her with particular affection. “Yes, you go up to Field’s and give old Sturgiss and old Field my love. You’ll almost have forgotten the way there. I say, it’s funny, isn’t it, how time changes things and how it goes? We couldn’t have imaged this once, and here it is the most established thing in the world. Do you know, it’s almost exactly a year since you chucked it?” “Chucked it!” The light expression smote her. O manlike man that thus could phrase divorce that from her heart’s engrossment had cut her life asunder!