ows, and sunny balconies, and a grudging
admission that new houses have their points. Stage number three follows
hard on the discovery of rats in the kitchen of the panelled house of
dreams, and consists in a sceptical wonder if the villa could possibly
"do." Stage number four marks the signing of a lease, and the planting
of innumerable creepers. In the case of the villa rented by Martin and
the Squire in conjunction, the creepers had already mounted to the
second story, so that it was possible to pick roses out of bedroom
windows, and forget the glaring brick and imitation timber hidden
beneath the clustering leaves. Cassandra and Grizel had rooms which
opened on the same balcony, and there was a covered verandah which ran
the length of the south side of the house, in the shade of which they
partook of tea together, what time their lords were absent on the links.

The mental attitude of the two women towards the masculine absorption
differed naturally. Cassandra was unfeignedly thankful to have her
husband kept in good temper, and to be left alone to amuse herself.
Grizel began each morning in a mood of exemplary unselfishness, rejoiced
in the prospect of healthful exercise for her student, and speeded him
on his course with the sunniest of smiles, but when tea-time brought no
sign of return, her eyes showed sparks of light, and her lips tightened.
_This_ meant that the men had started on a third round, and would not
appear until six, at which hour they would be graciously pleased to
repose themselves on the verandah, drink cooling draughts, and smile
benignly upon waiting wives, until it should be time to dress for
dinner. On such occasions it was Grizel's habit to leave the house
shortly before six o'clock and start on an hour's walk over the country
in a directly opposite direction to that of the links. If a man elected
to spend the whole day apart from his wife,--if he found his pleasure in
so doing... far be it from her to say him nay, but on his return she
would not be found sitting in an appointed place, meekly awaiting the
light of his countenance. "_That_ smacks too much of the harem for my
taste!" quoth Mistress Grizel with a shrug.

These perverse excursions invariably ended in a pursuit by a tired
Martin, when Grizel would be inwardly overwhelmed with remorse, and
would make vows of forbearance for the future, which vows were fated to
be broken with all speed. A state of mind for which no excuse i