Jane curled up among her pillows, and said rebelliously, “Well, I don’t have to obey yet, do I?”
“Don’t ever obey.” Edith, in her winged chair with her Viking braids and the classic draperies of her white dressing-gown, looked like a Norse goddess. “Don’t ever obey, or you’ll make a tyrant out of him.”
“But I hate—fighting.”
“You won’t have to fight. I do it because it’s my temperament. But you can manage him—by letting things go a bit—and coaxing will do the rest——”
“I don’t want to manage—my husband,” said Jane.
“All women do——”
“Would you want to manage—Baldy?”
Edith flushed. “That’s different,” she evaded.
“Not different. You know you wouldn’t go through life with him, pulling wires, making a puppet of him—of yourself—you want comradeship—understanding. You’ll flare up now and then. Baldy and I do. But—oh, we love each other.” Jane’s voice shook.
Edith looked at her thoughtfully. “Jane, are you happy?”