"As you please," said Mrs. Fane quietly, "so long as you don't trouble me. And don't make love to any other woman," she added.
"Julia," said Fane, pausing at the door, "do you really care for me as much as that?"
"My dear, every one has a weakness; pride is mine. I like you. I have an affection for you, else I should not have married you. So long as you look handsome and are well dressed, and show me the deference of a chivalrous man to his lawful wife, I have no complaint to make. But if you go after other women, and make me a laughing-stock amongst my friends," added Mrs. Fane, drawing a deep breath, "I should not spare you."
Fane laughed, though rather uneasily. "One would think you would do me an injury," he said, with another shrug.
Mrs. Fane raised her eyes and looked at him steadily. "I might even do that," she replied. "Don't hurt my pride, whatever you do. And if you desert me in favour of----"
"There's no chance of my doing that," said Walter irritably. "I declare to heaven that I'm fond of you, Julia."
"That is as it should be," retorted Mrs. Fane.
Before her husband could reply there came a knock at the door, and immediately afterwards a stolid young man in livery entered. Walter slipped past him and got out of the room, while the man waited for his mistress to address him. "Yes?" said Mrs. Fane interrogatively.
"If you please, ma'am, the cook have gone mad," said the stolid man.
"Really?" rejoined Mrs. Fane, letting her knitting fall on her lap, but otherwise undisturbed. "And what form does her madness take?"