He seated himself silently in the arm-chair beside the bed, and kept his
soothing hold on her shoulder. The time had come when he went through
all these accustomed acts of pacification as mechanically as a nurse
soothing a fretful child. And once he had thought her weeping eloquent!
He looked about him at the spacious room, with its heavy hangings of
damask and the thick velvet carpet which stifled his steps. Everywhere
were the graceful tokens of her presence--the vast lace-draped
toilet-table strewn with silver and crystal, the embroidered muslin
cushions heaped on the lounge, the little rose-lined slippers she had
just put off, the lace wrapper, with a scent of violets in its folds,
which he had pushed aside when he sat down beside her; and he remembered
how full of a mysterious and intimate charm these things had once
appeared to him. It was characteristic that the remembrance made him
more patient with her now. Perhaps, after all, it was his failure that
she was crying over....

"Don't be unhappy. You decided as seemed best to you," he said.

She pressed her handkerchief against her lips, still keeping her head
averted. "But I hate all these arguments and disputes. Why should you
unsettle everything?" she murmured.

His mother's words! Involuntarily he removed his hand from her
shoulder, though he still remained seated by the bed.

"You are right. I see the uselessness of it," he assented, with an
uncontrollable note of irony.

She turned her head at the tone, and fixed her plaintive brimming eyes
on him. "You _are_ angry with me!"

"Was that troubling you?" He leaned forward again, with compassion in
his face. _Sancta simplicitas!_ was the thought within him.

"I am not angry," he went on; "be reasonable and try to sleep."

She started upright, the light masses of her hair floating about her
like silken sea-weed lifted on an invisible tide. "Don't talk like that!
I can't endure to be humoured like a baby. I am unhappy because I can't
see why all these wretched questions should be dragged into our life. I
hate to have you always disagreeing with Mr. Tredegar, who is so clever
and has so much experience; and yet I hate to see you give way to him,
because that makes it appear as if...as if...."

"He didn't care a straw for my ideas?" Amherst smiled. "Well, he
doesn't--and I never dreamed of making him. So don't worry about that
either."

"You never dreamed of making him care for your ideas? But then wh