orld that was unknown to her, a world in which she had no part,
and did not want to have a part, knowing it to be wicked. "You have
been reading all the evening. You prefer your book to me. Good-night."

She had never spoken to him so rudely before. He wondered awhile and
went to the piano. She had gone out of the room very rudely. Now he was
free to do what he liked, and what he liked most was to play Bach. The
sound of the piano would reach her bedroom! Well, if it did--he had not
played Bach for four weeks and he wanted to play Bach. Yes, he was
playing Bach to please himself. He knew the piano would annoy her. And
he was right.

She had just lighted the candles on her dressing-table, and she paused
and listened. It annoyed her that he should go to the piano the moment
she left him, and that he should play dry intellectual Bach, for he
knew that Bach did not interest her. She was tempted to ring for her
maid, and would have sent down word to Ned that she would be obliged if
he would stop playing, had it not seemed undignified to do so.

As she undressed she lost control over herself, and lying in bed it
seemed to her that Ned had hidden himself in a veil of kindness and
good humour, and that the man she had married was a man without moral
qualities, a man who would leave her without resentment, without
disgust, who would say good-by to her as to some brief habit. She could
hear Bach's interminable twiddles, and this exasperated her nerves and
she wept through many preludes and fugues. Later on she must have heard
the fugues in a dream, for the door opened; it passed over the carpet
softly; and she heard Ned saying that he hoped the piano had not kept
her awake. She heard him lay the candle on the table and come over to
her bedside, and, leaning over her, he begged of her to turn round and
speak to him.

"My poor little woman, I hope I have not been cross with you this
evening."

She turned away petulantly, but he took her hand and held it and
whispered to her, and gradually tempted her out of her anger, and
taking some of her red hair from the pillow he kissed it. She still
kept her head turned from him, but she could not keep back her
happiness; it followed her like fire, enfolding her, and at last,
raising herself up in the bed, she said:--

"Oh, Ned, do you still love me?"

When he came into her bed she slipped down so that she could lie upon
his breast, and they fell asleep thinking of the early train he