"You've done nothing, when you know you poured out my last dose at
twelve?"

"Why, hasn't it come?"

"No. It hasn't."

"But Cissy ordered it this morning."

"I didn't," Cissy said. "I forgot."

"Oh, Cissy----"

"You needn't blame Cissy. You ought to have seen to it yourself.... She
was a good nurse, Harriett, before she was my wife."

"My dear, your nurse had nothing else to do. Your wife has to clean and
mend for you, and cook your dinner and mow the lawn and nail the carpets
down." While she said it she looked at Robin as if she adored him.

All through tea time he talked about his health and about the sanitary
dustbin they hadn't got. Something had happened to him. It wasn't like him
to be wrapped up in himself and to talk about dustbins. He spoke to his
wife as if she had been his valet. He didn't see that she was perspiring,
worn out by her struggle with the carpet.

"Just go and fetch me another cushion, Beatrice."

She rose with tired patience.