'This kind of talk means defective circulation, lost appetite, and so on,' was his half-joking answer. 'The way to please me is to get some colour into your cheeks again, and snub me for my ignorance of music, and be your own arrogant self. But listen. You're quite mistaken in thinking I want to stay here till Hugh and his wife come. It won't do. You're getting far too sweet and docile, and everything detestable. I had no idea of marrying an angel; it's too bad if you turn seraphic upon my hands. I wonder, now, whether, by way of pleasing me, you would answer a plain question?'
'I'll try.'
'Have you been wanting to get away from this place—I mean, to live somewhere else?'
'I? What can have made you think so?'
'That isn't trying to answer a question, you know.'
Alma, after looking keenly at him, had turned her face to the window. She kept silence, and wore a look of calm reflectiveness.
'Have you been bored and wearied by this life?' Harvey asked in his most good-natured tone.
'I don't think I have ever for a moment shown a sign of it,' replied Alma, with grave conviction.
'So much the worse, if it meant that you concealed your thoughts.'
'I shall always be content, Harvey, so long as I see you are living the kind of life that suits you.'