Only she wanted it as a secretary and not as a--not as anything
else.

"What's in a word?" asked Reason mildly. "Words mean only what you
mean by them. Wife or secretary, if they mean the same--"

Desire flung her note-books viciously into a drawer and banged it
shut.

Why did things insist upon changing anyway? She had been content--
well, almost. She had not asked for more than she had. Why, then,
should a cross-grained fate insist upon her getting less? Since
yesterday she had not troubled even about Mary. Her self-ridicule at
the absurdity of her mistake regarding Dr. Rogers' pretty nurse had
had a salutary effect. And now--just when everything promised so
well (self-pity began to cool the hot lump in her throat). And just
when she had made up her mind that, however small her portion of her
husband's thought might be, it would be enough--well, almost enough-
-

A screech from Yorick made her start nervously.

"Cats!" said Yorick. "Oh the devil--cats!"

Desire laughed and firmly dislodged Aunt Caroline's big Maltese cat
from its place of vantage on the window-sill. The laughter dissolved
the last of the troublesome lump and she began to feel better. After
all, the book-weariness of which Benis had spoken would probably be
a passing phase. If she allowed herself to go on creating mountains
out of molehills she would soon have a whole range upon her hands.