that.'

Do not condemn me. Remember that my will had been weakened by
housework; six months of doing my own washing-up had brought me to my
knees. I was ready to agree to any terms that were offered me. The
applicant shook her head. There were too many obstacles in the way,
too many radical changes necessary before the place could be made
suitable for her. I realized finality in her answer, 'No, nothink,'
and closing the front door behind her, I returned to the study to
brood. I was still there, thinking bitterly, the shadows of the
evening creeping around me, when Henry came in.

'Hallo,' he said gruffly. 'No signs of dinner yet? Do you know the
time?'

And only six months ago (before this story opens) he would have
embraced me tenderly when he came in and said, 'How is the little
wifie-pifie to-night? I hope it hasn't been worrying its fluffy little
head with writing and making its hubby-wubby anxious?'

Perhaps you prefer Henry in the former role. Frankly, I did not. 'You
needn't be so impatient,' I retorted. 'I expect you've gorged yourself
on a good lunch in town. Anyhow, it won't take long to get dinner, as
we're having tinned soup and eggs.'

'Oh, damn eggs,' said Henry. 'I'm sick of the sight of 'em.'

You can see for yourself how unrestrained we were getting. The thin
veneer of civilization (thinner than ever when Henry is hungry) was
fast wearing into holes. There was a pause, and then I coldly