“In that case I shall not go to Durdleham--I couldn't. You would not understand why. I shall stay in London, and mind the house.” “I should not like you to do that,” said Thornton. “Why not?” “Because I had rather you did not,” he repeated, with a gathering frown. “How long do you contemplate being away?” asked Clytie quietly. “August and September, perhaps--I can't quite tell yet.” “Do you propose, then, that I should go and stay in Durdleham for two months with my people?” He had not contemplated it, but he was irritated at her show of opposition. He lost his temper and said sharply: “Yes. Or with any other friends you like. I am not going to have you remain here all by yourself.” “Will you tell me your reasons, Thornton?” asked Clytie. He crumpled up his paper angrily and thumped it on the table. The veins in his forehead stood out. His face grew ugly. “When I say a thing is to be done I mean it,” he cried, “and I am not accustomed to be asked for my reasons!” “I shall leave you until you have recovered yourself,” said Clytie with dignity, and she left the room. This was the first real quarrel between them. The blood had often rushed hot through Clytie's veins and set her pulses tingling, but hitherto she had restrained herself, feeling that the first revolt would mark the beginning of the end. She passed a miserable day. When Thornton came home in the afternoon to dress for dinner he was in one of his light-hearted moods. He had backed an outsider some weeks back at very long odds. The race had been run that day and the outsider had won, bringing him a couple of thousand pounds--a windfall that relieved him of certain temporary embarrassments. Hence his buoyancy that afternoon. He had apparently forgotten the morning's difference, and called Clytie “little wife” again, and promised her a victoria to supplement the modest brougham with which they had begun. He put his arm round her and kissed her, praised her beautiful hair, the roundness of her arms, her dress. He told her the gossip of the day in his bright off-hand manner, made her laugh in spite of her weariness. But when he kissed her she shrank a little. In the elation of his victory he did not notice her lack of responsiveness; besides, he was not over-sensitive at any time. When they returned home at night from the dinner-party to which they had gone together, Thornton was still in pleasant mood. Nothing more was said respecting the plans for August and September.