--to be mysteriously associated with them in a piece of sharp
practice or even of knavery. They constituted another complication of
his existence. He wanted to disown them and never to speak to them
again, but he knew that he could not disown them. He was living in
gorgeousness for the sole reason that he and they were in the same boat.

Eve came in, opening the door cautiously at first and then rushing
forward as soon as she saw that the room was not in darkness. He feared
for an instant that she might upbraid him for deserting her. But no!
Triumphant happiness sat on her forehead, and affectionate concern for
him was in her eyes. She plumped down, in her expensive radiance, on the
bed by his side.

"Well?" said he.

"I'm so glad you decided to go to bed," said she. "You must be tired,
and late nights don't suit you. I just slipped away for a minute to see
if you were all right. Are you?" She puckered her shining brow exactly
as of old, and bent and kissed him as of old. One of her best kisses.

But the queer fellow, though touched by her attention, did not like her
being so glad that he had gone to bed. The alleged philosopher would
have preferred her to express some dependence upon his manly support in
what was for her a tremendous event.

"I feel I shall sleep," he lied.

"I'm sure you will, darling," she agreed. "Don't you think it's all been
a terrific success?" she asked naively.

He answered, smiling:

"I'm dying to see _The Daily Picture_ to-morrow. I think I shall tell
the newsagent in future only to deliver it on the days when you're in
it."

"Don't be silly," she said, too pleased with herself, however, to resent
his irony. She was clothed in mail that night against all his shafts.

He admitted, what he had always secretly known, that she was an
elementary creature; she would have been just as at home in the Stone
Age as in the twentieth century--and perhaps more at home. (Was Lady
Massulam equally elementary? No? Yes?) Still, Eve was necessary to him.

Only, up to a short while ago, she had been his complement; whereas now
he appeared to be her complement. He, the philosopher and the source of
domestic wisdom, was fully aware, in a superior and lofty manner, that
she was the eternal child deceived by toys, gewgaws, and illusions;
nevertheless he was only her complement, the indispensable husband and
payer-out. She was succeeding without any brain-work from him. He
noticed that she was not weari