"Yes, that's the trouble."
"What the deuce do you mean?"
"I mean that you're rather apt to lose sight of the fact that she's no longer a kind of sister to you, but a wife," Feathers said quietly. "Also, I suppose that when you were kids together she spoilt you like the devil, and it looks as if she means to go on spoiling you."
Chris laughed in amusement.
"Spoils me—Marie spoils me! That's good!" He really thought it was. Like most men whose chief ambition it is to see that they get their own way no matter at what inconvenience to others, he was quite unconscious of the fact; he really thought he was rather an unselfish man; he certainly considered that perhaps with the exception of the little scene this morning when he had lost his temper he had treated Marie rather well.
"You don't understand women, my dear chap," he said cheerily.
Feathers looked at him squarely.
"Do you?" he asked.
Chris looked rather nonplussed.
"Well, perhaps I don't," he admitted. "And perhaps I don't want to. I prefer a man's company any day to a woman's, you know that— except Marie's, of course," he added hastily.