“Very much,” he replied, wishing to please.
“There, Jenny, I knew he wouldn’t mind. If you heard all the fuss she made about your being angry and not liking it, and I don’t know what all!”
“Basil says I look best in black,” said Jenny in self-defence.
“Men never know what’s dressy, my dear,” Annie answered. “If you went by what Basil said, you would be a dowd.”
It was rather distressing to find that his wife still somewhat feared him. In her eyes, apparently, he was a bearish creature whose whimsical fancies must be humoured, and he thought bitterly of the confidence which he hoped would exist between them, of the complete union in which not a thought nor an emotion should be unshared. And knowing that his own love was long since dead, Basil sought to persuade himself that hers also was on the wane. The week-end bored him immensely, and it was not without relief that he found himself on Monday morning at the station, whither his wife accompanied him.
“I’m awfully busy; I don’t know whether I can manage to come down next Saturday,” he said tentatively.
But Jenny’s eyes filled on a sudden with tears.
“Oh, Basil, Basil, I can’t live without you! I’d rather come up to town. If you don’t like Annie, she can go away. Promise me you’ll come. I look forward to it all the week.”
“You’ll have a very good time without me. I’ve only made you wretched by my visit.”
“No, you haven’t. I want you so badly. I’d rather be utterly unhappy with you than happy without. Promise me you’ll come.”