"What is it that I ought to understand?" he asked.
"That a woman does not like to be bothered."
He made no reply at once, but stood there twisting the handle of the door, and collecting his thoughts. "Yes," said he at last; "I am beginning to find that out;—and to find out also what it is that bothers a woman, as you call it. I can see now what it is that makes your head ache. It is not the stomach. You are quite right there. It is the prospect of a quiet decent life, to which would be attached the performance of certain homely duties. Dr. Macnuthrie is a learned man, but I doubt whether he can do anything for such a malady."
"You are quite right, Robert; he can do nothing."
"It is a malady you must cure for yourself, Laura;—and which is to be cured by perseverance. If you can bring yourself to try—"
"But I cannot bring myself to try at all," she said.
"Do you mean to tell me, Laura, that you will make no effort to do your duty as my wife?"
"I mean to tell you that I will not try to cure a headache by doing sums. That is all that I mean to say at this moment. If you will leave me for awhile, so that I may lie down, perhaps I shall be able to come to dinner." He still hesitated, standing with the door in his hand. "But if you go on scolding me," she continued, "what I shall do is to go to bed directly you go away." He hesitated for a moment longer, and then left the room without another word.