“Because we are human, I suppose.” Juliet was putting a mass of waving brown hair, disordered by the fight, into shape again. “It isn’t nice. We don’t do it often. To-night you came home tired, and found a wife who had been entertaining people from town all the afternoon. But it’s all right now, isn’t it?”
She bent forward, and Anthony took her outstretched hand in his own and gave it a grip which made it sting. He began to whistle cheerfully.
“Should we be happier if we never disagreed?” she asked thoughtfully.
The whistle stopped. “Jupiter, no! I want a thinking being to talk things over with, not a mental pincushion.”
“Thank you.—Isn’t it lovely here?”
“Delightful.—Julie, do you know we’ll have been married five years next September?”
“It doesn’t seem possible.”
“I shouldn’t know it, to look at you,” he observed. He rolled upon his left side and regarded her from under intent brows. “You haven’t grown a day older.”
“I’m not sure that’s a compliment.”
“It’s meant for one. Do you know you’re a beauty?”