I hope you're nice and considerate to Mary? You make her happy?"

"Doesn't this look like it?" he answered. "She'll be in a state if you
don't turn up." He sighed. "I've never said a word about it, but she's
rather trying and tiresome if you want to know."

"Then I'm very, very sorry for her," said Bertha, "and you can't do
enough for her. ... Why, with those lovely children I'm sure she'd be
ideally happy if----"

"Oh, you think, of course, it's my fault. It never occurs to you whether
I'm happy!"

A look from her which she tried to repress reminded him of his
deliberate choice. He thought the time had come to make her a little
sorry for him, knowing her extreme tenderness of heart. He spoke in a
lower voice, and looked away.

"If I'm sometimes a bit miserable, it serves me right."

"Be good to her," said Bertha.

"I'll do anything on earth you'll tell me."

"What are the children's names?"

"Nigel and Marjorie."

"Darling pets, I suppose?"

"Isn't it extraordinary, Bertha," he said. "I've no right to say it to
you, but that's my great trouble."

"What?"

"She doesn't care much about them."

"I don't believe it," said Bertha, shaking her head. "It's you who are
mistaken."

"Am I?"

"Nigel, remember, I know you pretty well."

"And you think I'm trying to make you sorry for me?"

"I won't say that. But you ought to be happy, and so ought your wife."

He spoke in a different tone, with his usual cheery smile.

"Well, if you will grace our entertainment, I promise we will be happy.
Do come, Bertha!" He was taking all this trouble simply so as not to
have a boring evening at his own home!

"Very well, Nigel," she answered, with a kind, frank smile. "I'll come.
Lately Percy's had so much work that in the evenings he hasn't been very
keen on going out to parties."

"And you don't go without him?" he asked with curiosity.

"No. Aren't I unfashionable?"

"You're delightful."

"Good-bye," she said, holding out her hand.

He took it, and held it, saying:

"And now I sha'n't see you again until a few minutes at the party, and
heaven knows when after that."

"I'll bring Madeline. Shall I?"

"Oh yes, do. It'll be _some_ party, as the Americans say, and Charlie
won't be there."

"Good-bye again."

"What are you going to wear?" he asked, in his old, brotherly voice,
lingering by the door.

"Salmon-coloured chiffon with a mayonnaise sash," she answered, fairly
pushing him out of the room. "D