hours of the day. And then it was the wife who suggested, like the
poet in Gilbert's Patience, the delight with which she would welcome
an occasional afternoon off."

"He hung about her while she was dressing in the morning. Just as
she had got her hair fixed he would kiss it passionately and it
would come down again. All meal-time he would hold her hand under
the table and insist on feeding her with a fork. Before marriage he
had behaved once or twice in this sort of way at picnics; and after
marriage, when at breakfast-time he had sat at the other end of the
table reading the paper or his letters, she had reminded him of it
reproachfully. The entire day he never left her side. She could
never read a book; instead, he would read to her aloud, generally
Browning' poems or translations from Goethe. Reading aloud was not
an accomplishment of his, but in their courting days she had
expressed herself pleased at his attempts, and of this he took care,
in his turn, to remind her. It was his idea that if the game were
played at all, she should take a hand also. If he was to blither,
it was only fair that she should bleat back. As he explained, for
the future they would both be lovers all their life long; and no
logical argument in reply could she think of. If she tried to write
a letter, he would snatch away the paper her dear hands were
pressing and fall to kissing it--and, of course, smearing it. When
he wasn't giving her pins and needles by sitting on her feet he was
balancing himself on the arm of her chair and occasionally falling
over on top of her. If she went shopping, he went with her and made
himself ridiculous at the dressmaker's. In society he took no
notice of anybody but of her, and was hurt if she spoke to anybody
but to him. Not that it was often, during that month, that they did
see any society; most invitations he refused for them both,