She coloured warmly, and showed, by downcast eye and close-pressed lips, how this wounded. She felt that she had nothing to say in reply, except a low, reproachful, "Oh!" in the shock of such an unkindness.
"Not very tactful of me, was it, to taunt you with the amiable weakness which has procured me the lifelong privilege of your society?"
"Amiable weakness?" she repeated vaguely.
"The woman's desire for physical comforts, luxury, and so on, at any cost."
"Oh," murmured Virgie, "I don't think—indeed, I'm sure you don't understand."
"No? We must discuss the matter at greater length; but as I told you this morning, I dislike talking in the train. We shall be at Luton in a minute, and I telegraphed for a tea-basket."
The train slowed down as he spoke. He rose, leaned from the window, and took the tray from the boy who was waiting on the platform.
Virginia poured out the tea, and dispensed the bread and butter and cake with a sinking heart.
Of all the things she had anticipated, unkindness from her newly made husband had been farthest from her thoughts. Her maiden terrors had concerned themselves in the opposite direction. She had feared demonstrative display of feeling which as yet she must be unable to reciprocate. His attitude froze her timid efforts to make friends. The remaining words that passed between them during the journey were negligible, except for once, when he looked up suddenly—they were passing a lonely stretch of moorland, and he had been gazing from the window—and said:
"So you think you will like living in the country?"