"You and I have not troubled one another much with our doubts and
perplexities."

"You and I have been very happy together--I hope." There was a little
pause before the last two words, as if he had expected her to
anticipate them with something, and there was a half interrogative
note in his voice. She made no response, so he went on, "I've surely
not been a hard master--and I hope I've not been selfish. I know I've
not been unloving."

"And I hope you've not suffered many discomforts on my account. I
think, as women go, I am fairly reasonable--or I have been."

For some reason Shattuck seemed to find the cigar he was smoking most
unsatisfactory. Either it had been broken, or he had unconsciously
chewed the end--a thing which he detested--and there was a pause while
he discarded the weed, and selected a fresh one. He appeared to be
reflecting as he lighted it, and if his mind could have been read, it
would have probably been discovered that he was wondering how it had
happened that the conversation had taken this turn, and mentally
cursing his own stupidity in making any remarks on the Schopenhauer.
He was conscious all the time that his wife was looking rather
steadily at him, and he knew that at least a conventional reply was
expected of him.

"My dear girl," he said, "I look back on ten very satisfactory years
of married life. You have been a model wife, a charming companion--and
if occasionally it has occurred to me--just lately--that my wife has
developed rather singular, to say the least, unflattering ideas of
life, why, you have such a brilliant way of putting it, that I am more