shoulders, "I must get up; Osborn, really I must; there's breakfast to
cook--and you mustn't be late."

"Lie still, Mrs. Kerr," cried the young husband from the doorway.

It was cold in the kitchen, very cold, when a fellow went out clad
only in pyjamas, but Osborn briskly lighted that very superior
gas-stove and put the super-kettle on. It was extraordinary how
completely they were equipped; there was even an extra little set for
morning tea for two. He made toast under the grill, with whose
abilities he now felt really familiar, and furnished the tray. He was
glad he could have everything so pretty and cosy for Marie. He would
never be like some men he knew, utterly careless--to all appearance at
least--as to how their wives fared.

He had his cold tub quickly, while the kettle boiled, and lighted the
geyser in the bathroom for Marie. What an awfully decent bathroom it
was!

It was jolly sitting on the edge of Marie's bed, drinking tea, and
admiring her. Fellows who weren't married never really knew how pretty
a girl could look. Or at least they ought not. Her nightdress beat any
mere suit or frock simply hollow.

"Your bath'll be ready when you are, pretty cat," said Osborn, "and
I've left the kettle on and made enough toast for breakfast."

And Julia inferred that husbands were mere brutes!

Before Marie stepped out of bed, Osborn lighted the gas-fire in the