"
"It's the same thing--with a difference. Probably both of them are
wrong. That which one values too highly, because it is difficult of
attainment, is easily underrated when one has obtained it."
"Why does one value it too highly?"
"Why is it so difficult of attainment?"
The steam whistle above their heads interrupted their conversation.
They landed.
When they had arrived home, and he saw her again among her children,
he realised that his affection for her had undergone a change, and
that her affection for him had been transferred to and divided amongst
all these little screamers. Perhaps her love for him had only been a
means to an end. His part had been a short one, and he felt deposed.
If he had not been required to earn bread and butter, he would
probably have been cast off long ago.
He went into his study, put on his dressing-gown and slippers, lighted
his pipe and felt at home.
Outside the wind lashed the rain against the window panes, and whistled
in the chimney.
When the children had been put to bed, his wife came and sat by him.
"No weather to gather wild strawberries," she said.
"No, my dear, the summer is over and autumn is here."
"Yes, it is autumn," she replied, "but it is not yet winter, there is
comfort in that.
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