t do if she so ordained it? And yet, as a saving clause,
there was ever present to her mind the certainty that in any great and
crucial matter his will would come uppermost, and it would be she who
should have to receive instructions and follow them implicitly.

But then, if no great or crucial matter ever arose, her regard for him,
so far from growing would, in time, diminish. He was younger than she
was; his knowledge of the world--let alone his experience of life--
immeasurably inferior to hers. Why, even his whole-souled and entire
devotion to herself was the outcome of a certain callowness, the
adoration of a boy. But to her omnivorous appetite for adoration it
counted for something at any time, and here, where the article was
scarce, why, like everything else in that remote corner of the earth,
its value stood vastly enhanced. Yet even she could not in candour
persuade herself that it contained the element of durability.

And that other? Well, he was tired of her--and she was just a little
tired of him. Yet she had at one time pictured to herself, and to him,
that life, alone with him, such as she was now leading, would be simple
and unalloyed Paradise--they two, the world apart. She had looked up to
him as to a god: now she wondered how she could ever have done so; there
were times, indeed, when she was not careful to avoid saying as much.
He had never replied, but there was that in his look which had told her
plainer than words that she was fast driving nail after nail into the
coffin of their love. His absences had grown more frequent and more
prolonged. When at home he was graver, less communicative, never
confidential.

And yet--and yet? Could that past ever be slurred over? Had it not
left too deep, too indelible a mark on her, on both of them for that?
This was a side, however, upon which Hermia never dwelt. Though
physically seductive beyond the average, she was lacking in imagination.
This kept her from looking forward, still more from such unprofitable
mental exercise as retrospect. In sum, she was little more than a mere
animal, enjoying the sunniness of life, cowering and whimpering when its
shadow came. Just now, sunshine was uppermost, and her strong,
full-blooded temperament expanded and glowed with pulsating and generous
life.

Her meditations were broken in upon, and that by the sound of distant
whistling, rapidly drawing nearer. Somehow the strains of "A bicycle
made for two,"