“Yes, certainly; only I did not know whether you could tear yourself away from your dearly beloved dogs and guns.”
“And you were willing to have gone without me?”
“I did not wish to be any tie upon you,” was Alice’s reply, though she coloured slightly, and turned away her head as she spoke. “You remember our compact; I am a great advocate for free will.”
“Between husband and wife such a question ought never to arise,” rejoined Harry, seriously but kindly; “there should be complete unanimity. I hoped you had forgotten all that folly.”
“I never forget unkindness,” was the cold reply; “but I see you are going to favour me with a specimen of your ‘quiet manner,’ and as I am not in the humour for a scene or a lecture, you really must excuse my leaving you;” and as she spoke she rose to quit the apartment.
For a moment Harry’s eyes flashed, then a look of pain passed across his features, and, taking his wife’s hand, he led her back to the sofa on which she had been seated, saying gently, but reproachfully,—
“Why will you misunderstand me thus? You wish to accept your cousin’s invitation?”
Alice bowed her head in token of assent.
“Then write and tell her we shall be happy to do so; I shall be ready and willing to accompany you at whatever time you and she like to arrange together.”
“Oh, that is very nice and kind of you!” returned Alice, delighted at getting her way so easily; “I thought you were going to be cross and disagreeable, as—as you sometimes are.”