, who didn't dare to call 'er soul 'er own. And
milady Agnes is travelling the selfsame road--why, she 'as to cock 'er
eye at Henry nowadays before she trusts 'erself to say whether it's
beef or mutton she's eating! And now 'ere's you, love, carted off with
never a with-your-leave or by-your-leave, just because the doctor's
tired of it and thinks 'e'd like a change. There's no question of
whether you're tired or not--oh, my, no!"

"But he has to earn the money, Tilly. It isn't quite fair to put it
that way," protested her friend.

"Well! I don't know, Mary, I'm sure," and Tilly's plump person rose and
sank in a prodigious sigh. "But if I was 'is wife 'e wouldn't get off
so easy--I know that! It makes me just boil."

Mary answered with a rueful smile. She could never be angry with
Richard in cold blood, or for long together.

As time went on, though, and the break-up of her home began--by the
auctioneer's man appearing to paw over and appraise the furniture--a
certain dull resentment did sometimes come uppermost. Under its sway
she had forcibly to remind herself what a good husband Richard had
always been; had to tell off his qualities one by one, instead of
taking them as hitherto for granted. No, her quarrel, she began to see,
was not so much with him as with the Powers above. Why should HER
husband alone not be as robust and hardy as all the other husbands in
the place? None of THEIR healths threatened to fail, nor did any of
them find the conditions of the life intolerable. That was another
shabby trick Fate had played Richard in not endowing him with worldly
wisdom, and a healthy itch to succeed. Instead of that, he had been
blessed with ideas and impulses that stood directly in his way.--And it
was here that Mary bore more than one of her private ambitions for him
to its grave. A new expression came into her eyes, too--an unsure,
baffled look. Life was not, after all, going to be the simple,
straightforward affair she had believed. Thus far, save for the one
unhappy business with Purdy, wrongs and complications had passed her
by. Now she saw that no more than anyone else could she hope to escape
them.

Out of this frame of mind she wrote a long, confidential letter to
John: John must not be left in ignorance of what hung over her; it was
also a relief to unbosom herself to one of her own family. And John was
good enough to travel up expressly to talk things over with her, and,
as he put it, to "call Richard t