“Darling, it’s had a dull brute of a husband for months, but I’m free now. And I won’t sit up till four o’clock in the morning any more. Oh, and I’ll try to be punctual to meals! So can we go and have another honeymoon, please?”

“I’d—rather—stay here,” she faltered. “Or—London —I don’t mind—but—one can only have—one honeymoon.”

“Nonsense, babe! We can have as many as we like!” he said gaily. “One every year.”

“I—I’d prefer to stay here,” she said urgently. “I’ve —never seen—the Halt in the spring. And there are those eggs hatching out. Ducklings and chickens. I couldn’t miss them. The garden, too. Primroses. If—if you want a holiday—I don’t want to be a wet-blanket. You go away—if you want to.”

His arms fell away from her.

“Good God, Elizabeth, you can’t think I want a holiday from you? We haven’t been married a year yet!”

“I didn’t mean that! I only thought— Husbands do go away by themselves. I know they do. It’s—it’s good for them. I could have Auntie to stay with me, too. Oh, and Sarah!”

She could see the frown gathering in his eyes; she dreaded an outbreak of his temper.

“Your Aunt! Sarah! Where do I come in, I’d like to know? It seems to me that I don’t come in at all!”

“Oh, you can’t think that I—I didn’t mean that a bit!”

With an effort he choked back his rising anger, and spoke levelly, holding Elizabeth’s hands.

“I wish you’d tell me just what you do mean,” he said. “I can’t keep up with these half-sentences and—innuendoes. In my family we speak out. Can’t you do the same, Elizabeth? Am I to understand that you want me to go away?”

It was what she had meant, but now that he put the wish into words she was frightened of it, and shrank away.

“Oh, no! How could you think that?”

He sighed faintly, looking at her.

“My dear, I don’t know what to think. You hold me off with a pitch-fork.”

“I—I don’t! It’s—it’s your imagination!”

“It’s not. Else why am I still excluded from your room? I don’t like my dressing-room, Elizabeth.”

She was silent. There was nothing she could say.

“You’re not being fair to me,” he said quietly. “I happen to be human, you see. You expect too much—or should I say too little?”

“It’s you who expect too much of me!” she cried, goaded to it.

He stood very still. For a moment there was silence; Elizabeth dared not look up.

“Do I?” Stephen said slowly. “Oh!”