"Well, I guess it's better to have a wife as talks too little than a wife as talks too much."
"I suppose absolute perfection is rare—in women, poor wretches," she said in the old ironic tone she had always used toward him while he was her brother's hired man.
"What's that?" he said sharply.
"I was only amusing myself with a reflection."
He checked an angry retort, and striding over to a nail in the wall, took off his coat and hung it up. Somehow, he looked larger than ever in his gray sweater. A sense of comfort and unaccustomed well-being restored him to good humor. Throwing himself into the rocker, he stretched out his long legs luxuriantly.
"I guess there's no place like home. You get a bit fed up with hiring out. Ed was O. K., I reckon, but it ain't like being your own boss."
"I should think it wouldn't be," said Nora quietly.
"Where does that door go?" she asked presently.
"That? Oh, into the bedroom. Like to have a look?"
"No."