“Mercy on us, what a speech after four years of matrimony! Oh, you dear old fellow,” she ejaculated, clapping her hands together—“dear good old Tom!”
He laughed outright.
“Go on,” he exclaimed.
“Well, then, I will. Shall I tell you that I long for this great bright world that you despise?”
“Then I don’t, and there’s the difference. If we were rich and lived in the great world you speak of so rapturously, you would belong to so many others. Others would delight in your society and follow you with praise, and then I should be jealous. Here, I have you all to myself, which is the very thing I desire.”
“Will it be very long before you are rich?” she enquired carelessly.
“My darling, how can I possibly tell, and after all what does it matter? How often have I told you that riches do not bring happiness?”
“It may be so, but I should like to try.”
She did not perceive how her words jarred upon his sensitive nature. An expression of pain passed over his fine features, and he said no more for some little time.
He sat down and ate his evening meal in silence.