d wiping up the pools of water which the rampant children had
splashed upon the floor. She followed them with her waddling trip
along the corridor to see them snugly tucked up in their beds in what
had been Osborn's dressing-room, and at last, having murmured, "God
bless you all, ducks!" her good work accomplished, she stole away.

The flush of exertion stained Marie's pale cheeks now; it was 6.15,
and there was no time for anything but to fly to the kitchen. It was
always so, but happily there was seldom time to think about it. If you
began to question why, the potatoes boiled dry in immediate protest
against your discontent. By the time Marie had set the gas-stove going
full blast the very tips of her nose and ears were crimson. Without
pause she ran back into her bedroom to put on her best slippers, the
only evening toilet she had time to make. She stood a few seconds
leaning towards the glass, as she had stood that birthday night after
her husband had taken her to dine at the Royal Red, and she fingered
her blouse, her hair, her manicure tools passionately, sadly and
appealingly, as if she begged them: "Do your best." The underlying
anxiety which her confidences to Julia had awakened looked haggardly
from her face.

"I am growing very old," she thought, terrified. "I am growing much
older than thirty-one. I look older than Osborn."

She was quivering to woman's ageless problem, the problem of the body,
the problem of the tired brain and the driven heart; the problem of
the great and cruel competition between the woman of pleasure and the
woman of toil.

While she still stood there, she heard her husband's key in the lock.

She put up her hands to smooth the worry away from her face and, with
the impress of her fingers white on her flushed cheeks, stared at
herself again. Surely that was better? She wore a smile, the smile of
the Wise Wives, and went out to meet him. He was shedding his
overcoat, and as he hung it up he whistled a tune with joy in it. She
was struck instantly by something about him, a tiny but material
change, which she could not fathom.

"Hallo, old girl!" he turned to say cheerfully.

"Hallo, dear!" she replied.

"Dinner ready?"

"Quite! I'll bring it in."

He went into the dining-room and stood on the hearth in the attitude
long appropriate to a master of the house. His eyes were shining,
though his brow still wore its habitual creases as if he were thinking
very carefully. He stared