nt. I look
round and see the difference between most of the women there and me.
In restaurants one always seems to see such wonderful women--women who
seem as if _their_ purpose was just being taken out to dinner and
to be attractive. I compare my clothes with theirs and my hands with
theirs; and I think: 'Supposing Osborn is comparing me, too?'"

"He wouldn't."

"Not consciously, perhaps. But he is admiring the other women all the
time; I see him doing it. Why shouldn't he? All the women he sees
about him in town--the pretty girls in the streets.... He used to
admire me so much, when I was very pretty ... the--the things he used
to say! But now, I sometimes wonder--"

"What else do you wonder, poor kid?"

"When he goes out alone--sometimes to dinner--in the evenings--"

"Whether he's taking someone--"

Marie nodded. "Someone prettier than I; as I used to be; someone who's
not tired with having children; and who hasn't rusted and got dull and
stupid from thinking of nothing but grocers' bills, and from staying
at home."

"You must try not to think--"

"But I do think. Men are like that; men hate being annoyed and want to
be amused. They get to--to--marriage is funny; Osborn seems to get to
look upon me as someone who's always going to _ask_ for
something. I--I know when he had a nice commission the other day, he
didn't tell me about it, in case there was something for the children
I'd be asking him for."

"Oh!"

"It hurts," said Marie, "always to be considered an asker; but of
course men don't think of it like that."

"They ought to think, then."

"Men aren't like women. They set their own lines of conduct."

"What's that in the marriage service," Julia inquired, "about
bestowing upon a woman all a man's worldly goods?"

"Ah, well, you think all those things at the time; but they don't work
out, really."

"As I always thought," said Julia.

Marie was still away upon her trail. "I don't really let myself go as
much as you might think. I'm always dressed for breakfast, if I've
been up half the night; I don't allow myself to be slovenly. And
however I've had to hurry over putting the children to bed, and
cooking dinner and things, I always change my blouse and put on my
best slippers before Osborn comes in. I feel--at home I feel as if I
look quite nice; but when I come out of it"--she indicated her
surroundings--"I realise I'm just a dowd who's fast losing what looks
she had. When I come out, and se