This darkling mood of his had only become manifest to her during the last three or four years of their life. Previously, of course, he had been irritable at times.
Were they less happy now than they had been in the little house in Chelsea? It had really been a horrible little house. And yet there had been a brightness then—a nearness....
She found her mind wandering away upon a sort of stock-taking expedition. How much of real happiness had she and Trafford had together? They ought by every standard to be so happy....
She declined the Bernard's invitation to a chafing-dish supper, and began to talk so soon as she and Trafford had settled into the car.
"Rag," she said, "something's the matter?"
"Well—yes."
"The house?"
"Yes—the house."
Marjorie considered through a little interval.
"Old man, why are you so prejudiced against a bigger house?"