She looked quite moved, for Julia; she held Marie at arm's length,
stood off and surveyed her. "Well," she asked, "how are you?"

"Very well, and awf'ly happy."

Once more the kettle boiled on the gas-stove; once more toast baked
under the grill; and the girls, one eager to tell, the other eager to
listen, sat down on the hearthrug in the little dining-room to talk.

"What is marriage really like?" said Julia incredulously. "Haven't you
any fault to find? Any fly in your ointment?"

And Marie replied: "Absolutely none."

"It seems wonderful," said Julia thoughtfully.

"It is wonderful," cried Marie fervently; "it is so wonderful that a
girl can hardly believe it, Julia. But there it is. Marriage is the
only life. I wish you'd believe me. All the old life seems so little
and light and trivial and silly--that is, all of it which I can
remember, for it seems nearly swept away. Mother came in this
morning--if it hadn't been for her I don't think I'd have remembered
anything at all of what ever happened to me before I was Osborn's
wife. It's beginning all new, you see. It's like starting on the best
holiday you ever had in your life, which is going to last for ever.
Try to imagine it."

"Ah," said Julia sourly, "a holiday! Holidays _don't_ last for
ever. You always come back to the day's work and the old round."