ould be a rest to come home to a pretty room.
I look at those maroon curtains, and this hideous patterny carpet, and
feel all nervy and on edge; then Jacky thinks I am tired, and brings me
hot milk." She opened her speedwell blue eyes to their fullest width,
and stared at me dolefully. "Oh, Miss Wastneys, it is so strenuous to
have to live up to an ideal!"

"It would be still more strenuous to--_fall short_," I said curtly, and
she gave a start of dismay.

"Oh, goodness, yes! Anything rather than that! I wouldn't for the
world have Jacky find me out."

I felt like an aged grandam admonishing a silly child. Of course in the
long run he was bound to find out, for Delphine's discontent was
obviously increasing, and the hour was at hand when her self-control
would come to a sudden and violent end. Then there would be hasty words
and recriminations, the memory of which no after remorse could wipe
away. I was sure of it, and said so plainly, qualifying my prophecy
with a big "unless."

"Unless you can make up your mind to be honest _now_, and tell your
husband the whole truth. There is nothing to be ashamed of in being
young and needing variety in life. Tell him frankly that too much
parish gets on your nerves, and that you could do your work better if
you went away for a few weeks every three or four months. There must be
friends whom you could visit, and who would be glad to have you. After
a change of scene and occupation you would come home braced and
refreshed, and ready to make a fresh start. And you might speak about
the room at the same time. You need not suggest selling any furniture,
but just storing some of it away in an attic or cellar, so that you
could have a little boudoir of your own. Do be sensible, and tell him
to-night. He loves you. He wants you to be happy. He would
understand."

She shook her head.

"No. He would be kind and patient. He would agree at once, and never
say a word of reproach, but--he wouldn't understand. That's just it.
His whole idea of me would be shocked out of existence. He would be
disappointed to the bottom of his soul. I--I can't do it, Miss
Wastneys; but it's been a relief to grumble to you. Thank you for
letting me do it. Things have been just a little better since you and
Mrs Fane came to `Pastimes'. I haven't seen much of you, of course,
but I have enjoyed watching you. You wear such lovely clothes, and you
are young and interesting. Most of th