Fenwick's Career

by Mrs. Humphry Ward

'That's all very well. But many men don't know at twenty what they'll want at thirty,' said Fenwick, painting fast.

Madame de Pastourelles laughed.

'The doctors say nowadays—it is papa's latest craze—that it doesn't matter what you eat—or how little—if you only chew it properly. I wonder if that applies to matrimony?'

'What's the chewing?'

'Manners,' she said, laughing—'that you think so little of. Whether the food's agreeable or not, manners help it down.'

'Manners!—between husband and wife?' he said, scornfully.

'But certainly!' She lifted her beautiful brows for emphasis. 'Show me any persons, please, that want them more!'

'The people I've been living among,' said Fenwick, with sharp persistence, 'haven't got time for fussing about manners—in the sense you mean. Life's too hard.'

A flush of bright colour sprang into her face. But she held her ground.

'What do you suppose I mean? I don't meant court trains and courtesies—I really don't.'