'I don't like to have many things in a room,' said Edith, holding out
her delicate hands to the fire. 'It makes me nervous. I have gradually
accustomed Bruce to my idea by removing one thing at a time
--photographs, pictures, horrid old wedding presents, all the
little things people have. They suggest too many different trains of
thought. They worry me. He's getting used to it now. He says, soon
there'll be nothing left but a couple of chairs and a bookcase!'

'And how right! I've had rather the same idea in my house, but I
couldn't keep it up. It's different for a man alone; things seem to
accumulate; especially pictures. I know such a lot of artists. I'm very
unfortunate in that respect.... I really feel I oughtn't to have turned
up like this, Mrs Ottley.'

'Why not?'

'You're very kind.... Excuse my country manners, but how nice your
husband is. He was very kind to me.'

'He liked _you_ very much, too.'

'He seems charming,' he repeated, then said with a change of tone and
with his occasional impulsive brusqueness, 'I wonder--does he ever jar
on you in any way?'

'Oh no. Never. He couldn't. He amuses me,' Edith replied softly.

'Oh, does he?... If I had the opportunity I wonder if I should _amuse_
you,' he spoke thoughtfully.