"No row. Why? Did she say so?"

"Something like that. I'm trying to get that Mr. D'Arcy to sing. He's
full of conceit, I think."

"There was no row," said Gabriel moodily, "only she wanted me to go for
a trip to the west of Ireland and I said I wouldn't."

His wife clasped her hands excitedly and gave a little jump.

"O, do go, Gabriel," she cried. "I'd love to see Galway again."

"You can go if you like," said Gabriel coldly.

She looked at him for a moment, then turned to Mrs. Malins and said:

"There's a nice husband for you, Mrs. Malins."

While she was threading her way back across the room Mrs. Malins,
without adverting to the interruption, went on to tell Gabriel what
beautiful places there were in Scotland and beautiful scenery. Her
son-in-law brought them every year to the lakes and they used to go
fishing. Her son-in-law was a splendid fisher. One day he caught a
beautiful big fish and the man in the hotel cooked it for their dinner.

Gabriel hardly heard what she said. Now that supper was coming near he
began to think again about his speech and about the quotation. When he
saw Freddy Malins coming across the room to visit his mother Gabriel
left the chair free for him and retired into the embrasure of the
window. The room had already cleared and from the back room came the
clatter of plates and knives. Those who still remained in the drawing
room seemed tired of dancing and were conversing quietly in little
groups. Gabriel's warm trembling fingers tapped the cold pane of the
window. How cool it must be outside! How pleasant it would be to walk
out alone, first along by the river and then through the park! The snow
would be lying on the branches of the trees and forming a bright cap on
the top of the Wellington Monument. How much more pleasant it would be
there than at the supper-table!

He ran over the headings of his speech: Irish hospitality, sad memories,
the Three Graces, Paris, the quotation from Browning. He repeated to
himself a phrase he had written in his review: "One feels that one is
listening to a thought-tormented music." Miss Ivors had praised the
review. Was she sincere? Had she really any life of her own behind all
her propagandism? There had never been any ill-feeling between them
until that night. It unnerved him to think that she would be at the
supper-table, looking up at him while he spoke with her critical
quizzing eyes. Perhaps she would not be sorry to see him fail in his