Mrs. Marchmill started out of the reverie into which the book had thrown
her. 'Yes,' she said, 'you've been such a long time. I was tired of
staying in that dreary hotel. But I am sorry if you have wanted me,
Will?'

'Well, I have had trouble to suit myself. When you see the airy and
comfortable rooms heard of, you find they are stuffy and uncomfortable.
Will you come and see if what I've fixed on will do? There is not much
room, I am afraid; hut I can light on nothing better. The town is rather
full.'

The pair left the children and nurse to continue their ramble, and went
back together.

In age well-balanced, in personal appearance fairly matched, and in
domestic requirements conformable, in temper this couple differed, though
even here they did not often clash, he being equable, if not lymphatic,
and she decidedly nervous and sanguine. It was to their tastes and
fancies, those smallest, greatest particulars, that no common denominator
could be applied. Marchmill considered his wife's likes and inclinations
somewhat silly; she considered his sordid and material. The husband's
business was that of a gunmaker in a thriving city northwards, and his
soul was in that business always; the lady was best characterized by that
superannuated phrase of elegance 'a votary of the muse.' An
impressionable, palpitating creature was Ella, shrinking humanely from
detailed knowledge of her husband's trade whenever she reflected that
everything he manufactured had for its purpose the destruction of life.
She could only recover her equanimity by assuring herself that some, at
least, of his weapons were sooner or later used for the extermination of