nced
creature, with many interests in life, and love could be but one among
the number in any case; but Dan almost seemed to expect it to be the
only one.

"Oh dear! must I be embraced again?" she exclaimed one day, with quite
comical dismay on being interrupted in the middle of a book that was
interesting her at the moment.

Dan looked disconcerted. In his cheerful masculine egotism it had not
occurred to him that Beth might find incessant demonstrations of
affection monotonous. He would smile at pictures of the waning of the
honeymoon, where the husband returns to his book and his dog, and the
wife sits apart sad and neglected; it was inevitable that the man
should tire, he had other things to think of; but that the wife should
be the first to be bored was incredible, and worse: it was unwomanly.

Dan went to the mantelpiece, and stood looking down into the fire, and
his grey-green eyes became suffused.

"Have I hurt you, Dan?" Beth exclaimed, jumping up and going to him.

"Hurt me!" he said, taking out his pocket-handkerchief, "that is not
the word for it. You have made me very unhappy."

"Oh!" said Beth, her own inclinations disregarded at once, "I _am_
sorry!"

But he had satiated her once for all, and she never recovered any zest
for his caresses. She found no charm or freshness in them, especially
after she perceived that they were for his own gratification,
irrespective of hers. The privileges of love are not to be wrested
from us with impunity. Habits of dutiful submission destroy the power
to respond, and all that they leave to survive of the warm reality of
love at last is a cold pretence. By degrees, as Beth felt forced to be
dutiful, she ceased to be affectionate.

Although Dan dressed to go out with scrupulous care, he took no
trouble to make himself nice in the house. Care in dress was not in
him a necessary part and expression of a refined nature, but an
attempt to win consideration. He never dressed for dinner when they
were alone together. It was a trouble rather than a refreshment to him
to get rid of the dust of the day and the associations of his
walking-dress. This was a twofold disappointment to Beth. She had
expected him to have the common politeness to dress for her benefit,
and she was not pleased to find that the punctiliousness he displayed
in the matter on occasion was merely veneer. It was a defect of
breeding that struck her unpleasantly. They had been poor enough at
home, but B