husband. How
irritating Harry would have been in that capacity!

Daphne came in, and Valentia went on, as usual, with her thoughts aloud.

"Wouldn't Harry be a maddening husband?" she said as she brushed out her
hair.

"Oh! Would he? In what way?"

"He'd be so selfish, so obtrusive--he'd always want you to do exactly
what he liked, just when he liked, and never when he didn't, or when you
liked, I mean."

"How could he like you to do what he liked when he didn't like? That
would be expecting too much. I don't see what you mean, Val."

"I only mean that when he's in a bad temper Harry's tiresome, and if he
were married he'd be in one oftener."

"Oh dear! Are most men bad-tempered when they're married, Val?"

"Yes. Nearly always."

"_What?_ Then, will Cyril ..."

"Cyril's a pleasant, easy-going boy, but, as you won't have enough
money, he's sure to be bad-tempered at times."

"Then aren't married men bad-tempered when they have plenty of money,
Val?"

"Oh, if they have a great deal they're awfully bad-tempered, too;
because, you see, then they lose it, or if they don't do that they're
always trying to enjoy themselves with it and finding the enjoyment
flat, and then they blame their wives. Besides, anyhow, having enough
money leads to all sorts of complications."

"Oh dear! Then what do you advise?" Daphne hung on Valentia's words,
respecting her superior knowledge and experience.

"Oh, I advise enough, anyhow. It can't make you happy, but it can avoid
certain troubles. Love in a cottage is only all right for the week-end
when you have a nice house in London as well, and a season ticket or a
motor, and electric light and things, and a telephone. Oh, by the way,
our telephone here is eating its head off. We never use it. Go and ring
up to the grocer, not to forget to send the things, will you, dear? He's
got a telephone, too--the only tradesman in the village who has."

"What things isn't he to forget to send?"

"How should I know?--the usual things. He never does forget, but it
looks well to remind him, and the 'phone needs exercise."

"All right. But before I go, Val--suppose you can't have the sort of
love-in-a-cottage you mean, and there's no fear of your being so rich
that it makes you miserable, what is the best thing to do?"

"Why, I suppose the old business in the old novels, a competence with
the man of your heart, would do all right."

Daphne looked pleased.

"For six months, anyhow. Or