"Don't, dearest," Linda entreated, the color rising in her cheeks.
"I will say it. If you keep on giving in this way to a man's temper, you'll end by not daring to say your soul's your own."
"Robert is imperious, perhaps," the young wife answered slowly. "But that is between him and me. If I can stand it, my friends needn't worry."
"My dear child, you know I don't mean to be meddlesome. I might have recollected the old adage about a husband and wife being a pair of scissors, and whatever comes between the blades gets cut. But there is a principle involved here."
"Yes," assented Linda, "there is a principle involved."
"I suppose you mean your principles and mine are not the same," said the elder woman, with a little heat.
"Oh, yours are all right for you. But I must conform myself to a different rule. I can't explain it all, dear, only, right or wrong, I shall continue to give in—as you term it—to Robert. If he is high-tempered, there's all the more reason why I shouldn't be. I know what he expects of me—what he has always expected of me——"
"Expects you to be an angel!" broke in her friend, "while he is—whatever he chooses."
"Well," answered Linda, with a brilliant smile, "I'll be as near an angel as I can. You don't understand. There are compensations. Even if there is a little bitter drop now and then, he makes me very happy. And happiness is worth an effort."