She went into the inner room, and in a few moments came back with hat on and parasol in her hand.
Lawrence was walking back and forth in the room. He paused near his wife, and laid his hand on her arm.
"I hope you won't remember the foolish things a poor half-sick fellow says," he began. "I hope, since we are to spend our lives together, we may be on friendly terms, Prudence."
Prudence was occupied in furling her parasol, and in fastening the folds. She did not raise her eyes, as she answered, "Of course we shall be friendly. You didn't think I should begin to quarrel with you, did you? I'm not quite so vulgar as that. I'm not going to mend your stockings, or warm your slippers, or that kind of thing, you know. We are like other people, that's all."
Prudence now glanced up at her companion. There was a fire in her eyes that blazed still more, as she continued:
"I imagine I have a great deal of temperament, as the French say. Now, good-by. I don't know whether we shall sail down to Plymouth, or not."
She left the room. The crow walked after her to the door, made a guttural sound, then occupied himself by pulling threads from the carpet.
Lawrence leaned against a window-casing, and gazed vaguely at the bird.
"What did she mean by that?" he asked, aloud. "What is it to have a great deal of temperament? Perhaps I have it myself."
He turned towards the window, from which he could see the ocean.