Marie looked at him steadily. Just as she wanted to scream at him in
the night, so she now longed to cry: "It's harder on me than you! Do
you think I don't _want_ ever to go out? Do you think I don't
often long to go into the West End and look at the shops, or do a
matinée with mother or Julia, and come back refreshed?"

But with the prudence of her mother's daughter she restrained herself.

"Day in, day out, are we always to live the life domestic pure and
simple?" Osborn demanded.

For answer she shrugged her shoulders. Osborn thought her strangely
nonchalant, almost contemptuous.

"Well, I, for one, damned well won't do it," he said, rising from the
table.

"But I must," Marie replied in a level voice.

It was Osborn's turn to look at her; he wondered just what she meant
by it.

"Well," he asked, "I can't help it, can I?"

"Neither can I," said Marie.

Osborn put on his coat and hat and went out. It was the first time he
had ever gone out after dinner at home. For some while after he had
left Marie remained alone at the table, staring before her. The small