"There was a cheque among your papers one day last week!--I saw it before
you could hide it away. It was for £3,000--a dividend from something--a
coal mine, I think. And the week before you had another--"

Her husband's eyes shed lightnings.

"I'll not have you prying into my affairs!" he said violently. "All I
have is wanted--and more."

"And nothing of course--to give _me_--your wife!--for any comforts or
pleasures! That never enters into your head!"

Her voice came thickly already. Her chest began to heave.

"There now--crying again!" said Melrose, turning on his heel. "Can't you
sometimes thank your stars you're not starving in Florence, and just put
up with things a little?"

Netta restrained herself.

"So I would"--she said, choking--"if--"

"If what--"

For all answer, she turned and hurried away toward the hall. Melrose
looked after her with what appeared like exasperation, then suddenly
recaptured himself, smoothed his brow, and, returning to the study, gave
himself with unruffled zest and composure to the task of unpacking the
Boule clock.