f the strained
embarrassment that invariably laid its icy fingers around his heart
whenever he found himself confronted by emotion, had suggested that Rose
go in while he put up the horse and fed the stock. "Don't be scared if
you find it pretty rough," he had warned, to which her light answer had
lilted back, "Oh, I shan't mind."

And, as she stood in the doorway a moment later, her eyes taking in one
by one, the murky windows, the dirty floor, the unwashed dishes, the
tumbled bed, the rusty, grease bespattered stove choked with cold ashes,
she told herself hotly that it was not the dirt nor even the desperate
crassness that was smothering her joy. It was the fact that there was
nowhere a touch to suggest preparation for her home-coming. Martin had
made not even the crudest attempt to welcome her. It would have been
as easy for Rose to be cheerful in the midst of mere squalor as for
a flower to bloom white in a crowded tenement, but at the swift
realization of the lack of tenderness for her which this indifference to
her first impressions so clearly expressed, her faith in the man she had
married began to wither. He had failed her in the very quality in
which she had put her trust. Already, he had carelessly dropped the
thoughtfulness by which he had won her. She wondered how she could have
made herself believe that Martin loved her. "He has tried so hard
in every way to show me how much I would mean to him," she justified
herself. "But now he has me he just doesn't care what I think."

As Rose forced herself to face this squarely, something within her
crumpled. Grim truth leered at her, hurling dust on her bright wings of
illusion, poking cruel jests. "This is your wedding day," it taunted,
"that tall figure out there near the dilapidated barn feeding his hogs
is your husband. Oh, first, sweet, most precious hours! How you will
always like to remember them! Here in this dirty shanty you will enter
into love's fulfillment. How romantic! Why doesn't your heart leap and
your arms ache for your new passion?" Tears pushed against her eyelids.
Her new life was not going to be happy. Of this she was suddenly,
irrevocably certain.

Rose struggled against a complete break-down. This was no time for a
scene. What was the matter with her, anyway? Of course, Martin had not
meant to disappoint her, nor deliberately hurt her. He probably thought
this first home so temporary it didn't count. She simply would not mope.
Of that she