seem to me like marrying at all. The idea of me sitting by the fire and
wishing that the woman who sat on the t'other side of the stove was my first
wife! Yet I couldn't help doing this any more than breathing. Even if there
was any chance of my succeeding I can't see anything square or honest in my
going out and hunting up a wife as a mere matter of business. I know other
people do it and I've thought a good deal about it myself, but when it comes
to the point of acting I find I can't do it."

The two men now withdrew from the table to the fireside and lighted their
pipes. Mrs. Watterly stepped out for a moment and Tom, looking over his
shoulder to make sure she was out of ear shot, said under his breath, "But
suppose you found a woman that you could love and obey, and all that?"

"Oh, of course, that would make everything different. I wouldn't begin with a
lie then, and I know enough of my wife to feel sure that she wouldn't be a
sort of dog in the manger after she was dead. She was one of those good souls
that if she could speak her mind this minute she would say, 'James, what's
best and right for you is best and right.' But it's just because she was such
a good wife that I know there's no use of trying to put anyone in her place.
Where on earth could I find anybody, and how could we get acquainted so that
we'd know anything about each other? No, I must just scratch along for a
short time as things are and be on the lookout to sell or rent."

Tom smoked meditatively for a few moments, and then remarked, "I guess that's
your best way out."

"It aint an easy way, either," said Holcroft. "Finding a purchaser or tenant
for a farm like mine is almost as hard as finding a wife. Then, as I feel,
leaving my place is next to leaving the world."