"Yes, dear. But--"

"For God's sake don't call me DEAR when you--"

"Mart!" Her dignity always rose in arms. "Please don't get
excited."

"Well!" His tone would be modified, as the appetizing little meal
was dispatched. "But Lord, you do make me so mad, sitting there
criticizing me--I can always tell when you're in sympathy with me-
-my Lord, I wish you had to go up against these fellows sometimes-
-" The grumbling voice would go on and on; Cherry would pause at
the door, carrying out plates, to have him finish a phrase; would
nod sympathizingly as she set his dessert before him. But her soul
was like some living thing spun into a cocoon, hearing the sounds
of life only vaguely, interested in them not at all.

Martin seemed satisfied, and all their little world accepted her
as a matter of course. Pretty little Mrs. Lloyd went every morning
into the Company Store as the only store at the mine was called,
and smiled over her shopping; she stopped perhaps at the office to
speak to her husband; she met some other woman wheeling a baby up
to the cottages, and they gossiped together. She and her husband
dined and played cards now and then with a neighbour and his wife,
and they gave dinners in return, when the men praised every dish
extravagantly, and the woman laughed at their greedy enthusiasms.
Like the other women, she had her small domestic ambitions; Mrs.
Brown wanted a meat-chopper; Mrs. White's one desire was to have a
curly maple bedroom set; Mrs. Lloyd wanted a standing mahogany