“Hasn’t our honeymoon interfered a little with your work?” he asked lightly.
“Of course not. It’s been the most stimulating of tonics, Mr. Annan.”
“Well, it’s overstimulated me, perhaps. I can’t keep my feet on the earth,—I float——”
“You’re lazy!”
“Blissfully, Eris.... Eris!... Eris, immortal goddess of eternal discord.... Who gave you that lovely, ominous name?”
“The ironical physician who brought me into the world, I believe.... I believe I was well named.”
“You don’t create discord.”
“I seem to; from birth,” she said absently. She bent over a mass of rose-scented white peonies, inhaling the slightly aromatic perfume.
Watching her, he said: “It’s hard for me to realise that you’ve ever had troubles.”
“It’s hard for me, too,” she brushed her lips against the delicate, crisp petals. “Troubles,” she said, “become unreal when one’s mind remains interested.... I can’t even remember how it feels to be unhappy.... A busy mind forgets unessentials like trouble.”