The interview with the cook made her headache worse, and she began to feel ill-used and worse-tempered than before. She went with lagging steps to the library, secretly hoping that George would not only make it up, but would comfort her and kiss away her unhappiness.

George was ripping open a small packing case. He had taken his coat off, and the frown had gone from his face. He was all excitement, and he hardly noticed his wife’s entrance. Diana went to the window, trying to swallow her pride enough to make the first advances. Over her shoulder she saw George pull away the straw from the box, and insinuate reverent hands into it. Very carefully he drew forth what was to her only a dingy-looking vase. Over George’s face had stolen an expression of worship. He set the vase on a table, and stroked it lovingly. Diana realised that he had not been aware of her entrance. She was conscious of a rising rage, but she managed to choke it down.”

“George!”

“You—beautiful thing,” said George softly.

She turned to run straight into his arms, but stopped short when she saw that he had not spoken to her, but to the vase.

“Put that piece of ugly china down!” she cried

He looked at her in amazement.

“Ugly? Ugly! My dear girl, this is a Ming vase!”

“I don't care if it is! It’s ugly and dingy and dead! I’d like to smash all your horrible china! 1 would, I would!”

His face grew stern.

“I don’t advise you to try,” he said. “What you are pleased to call ‘dingy’ is a Ming vase with the aubergine glaze. What is it you want?” He spoke as to a refractory child, and Diana’s passion got the better of her. She sprang forward, and in a flash had knocked the vase out of his caressing hands. It fell on to the parquet floor and was shivered into atoms.

Diana was pulled up short by her impetuous action. A wave of ashamed repentance swept over her; she put a trembling hand on George’s arm.

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t—mean to! I’m very, very sorry!”

George shook her hand away. He was white with anger, but he spoke quietly.

“It’s easy enough to say you’re sorry, when you’ve broken the most precious thing I possess.”

Diana quivered, and flung up her head. Through the tears her eyes flamed into his.

“Oh, indeed! indeed! The most precious thing you possess! Do you mean that?”

“Yes, I do!” said George angrily.

“Very well! If that’s so you won’t mind when I tell you that I’m going home to Mother! She doesn't rank a loathsome vase higher than me! She loves me! As for you—I wish I’d never set eyes on you!”

“It’s come to that, has it?” he snapped back at her. “You break my vase out of wanton mischief and temper, and rail at me because I’m angry! Let me tell you that I’ve a good deal more cause for complaint than you have.” With that, and forgetting the fragments of china on the floor, he turned on his heel and slammed out of the room.