She took him home in triumph: he was _her_ husband!
In the fourth month he grew tired of her favourite song. It was stale
now! He took up a book and read, and neither of them spoke.
One evening he had to attend a meeting which was followed by a banquet.
It was his first night away from home. He had persuaded his wife to
invite a friend to spend the evening with her, and to go to bed early,
for he did not expect to be home until late.
The friend came and stayed until nine o'clock. The young wife sat in
the drawing-room, waiting, for she was determined not to go to bed
until her husband had returned. She felt too restless to go to sleep.
She sat alone in the drawing-room. What could she do to make the time
pass more quickly? The maid had gone to bed; the grandfather's clock
ticked and ticked. But it was only ten o'clock when she put away her
crochet work. She fidgeted, moved the furniture about and felt a little
unstrung.
So that was what being married meant! One was torn from one's early
surroundings, and shut up in three solitary rooms to wait until one's
husband came home, half intoxicated.--Nonsense! he loved her, and he
was out on business. She was a fool to forget that. But _did_ he love
her still? Hadn't he refused a day or two ago to hold a skein of wool
for her?--a thing he loved to do before they were married.
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