uffly. 'No signs of dinner yet? Do you know the
time?'

And only six months ago (before this story opens) he would have
embraced me tenderly when he came in and said, 'How is the little
wifie-pifie to-night? I hope it hasn't been worrying its fluffy little
head with writing and making its hubby-wubby anxious?'

Perhaps you prefer Henry in the former role. Frankly, I did not. 'You
needn't be so impatient,' I retorted. 'I expect you've gorged yourself
on a good lunch in town. Anyhow, it won't take long to get dinner, as
we're having tinned soup and eggs.'

'Oh, damn eggs,' said Henry. 'I'm sick of the sight of 'em.'

You can see for yourself how unrestrained we were getting. The thin
veneer of civilization (thinner than ever when Henry is hungry) was
fast wearing into holes. There was a pause, and then I coldly
remarked: 'You didn't kiss me when you came in.'

It was a custom to which I was determined to cling with grim
resolution. If I allowed his treatment of me to become too casual we
might continue to drift apart even when we had some one to do the
washing-up.

Henry came over to me and bestowed a labial salute. It is the only
adequate description I can give of the performance. Then I went to the
kitchen and got out the cookery-book.

It is a remarkable thing that I am never able to cook anything without
the aid of the book. Even if I prepare the same dish seven times a
week I must have the printed instructions constantly before me, or I am
lost. This is especially strange, because I have a retentive memory
for other things. My mind is crammed with odd facts retained from
casual reading. If you asked me, the date of the Tai-ping Rebellion
(though you're not likely to) I could tell you at once that it
originated in 1850 and was not suppressed until 1864, for I remember
reading about it in a dentist's waiting-room when I was fifteen. Yet
although I prepared scrambled eggs one hundred times in six months
(Henry said it was much oftener than that) I had to pore over the
instructions as earnestly when doing my 'century' as on the first
occasion.

The subsequent meal was taken in silence. The hay-fever from which I
am prone to suffer at all seasons of the year was particularly
persistent that evening. A rising irritability, engendered by leathery
eggs and fostered by Henry's expression, was taking possession of me.
Quite suddenly I discovered that the way he held his knife annoyed me.
Further,