a new estate, and overlooked rolling country from the western windows, from the east the house-backs of new roads. It had been built for him at the time of his first marriage, four years ago, and still smelt a little of plaster, and was coldly distempered, which he hated, but they said it was not yet safe to paper the walls.
To-day she said,"Come down and have a look at the garden, Martin; I've been 142
planting things."So he put down his bag and they walked to the end of the garden, where a new flower-bed looked scratched-up and disordered, and was edged with little drooping plants.
"Very pretty,"he said, looking at her and absently prodding at the mould with his umbrella."I suppose they'll grow?"
"Oh yes, Martin, they're going to grow right up and hide the board-fence; it's so ugly."
"If they're going to be so tall you should have planted them at the back and put the smaller things in front. As it is, everything else would be hidden."
"Why, yes,"she cried, disheartened,"I never thought of that—oh, Martin! It seemed such a pity to go walking over the new flower-bed, leaving foot marks; that's why I put them near the edge—and now I can't unplant them. What a lot there is to learn! Will you take me to the Gardening Exhibition next summer? I was reading about it—there are corners of gardens by all the famous people, and stone seats, and fountains—we might buy a sundial there,
and there are lectures you can go to, and prize roses. We should learn a lot."
"Next summer? Well, we'll see,"he said."Meanwhile don't overdo it—all this gardening."They skirted the flower-bed and went to lean up against the fence, resting their elbows on the top. She was half an inch taller than he, and her high heels gave her a further advantage. A little wind blew in their faces as they looked out towards the fading distance. The fields were dotted here and there with clumps of elm; with here and there a farmhouse roof, the long roofs and gleaming windows of a factory.
"This open country stretches for such miles,"she said dreamily."Sometimes, on these quiet misty days, I begin to think the sea's over there, and that if the clouds along the distance lifted I should see it suddenly, shining. And, with this wind, I could be sure I smell and hear it."
"Yes, I know. One often gets that feeling."
''Do you?''
"Well, no,"he said confusedly,"but Tm sure one does. I can imagine it."Someone
had said the same thing to him, just here, three or four years ago.
"You often understand before I say things, don't you, Martin? Isn't it curious? All sorts of woman's discoveries that I've made about this house were nothing new at all to you. Like my idea about a fitment cupboard for that corner of the landing. Fancy that having occurred to you!"
He did not answer. He had taken off his hat, and she watched the wind blowing through his fair hair, as soft and fine as a baby's. Little wrinkles were coming in the forehead that she thought so noble, and his face—well, one could not analyse it, but it was a lovely face. She pictured him swaying for forty minutes in the train, with his hand against the luggage-rack, in order to be with her now, and said,"Oh, Martin, Martin!"
"Let's come into the house."
"No, not into the house."
"Why not? It's cold, you're cold, little woman."He drew her arm through his and chafed her hand.
"Let's stay out,"she begged. "It isn't
time for supper. It isn't beginning to get dark yet. Do stay out—dear Martin!"
"Why,"he said, looking round at her,"one would think you were afraid of the house."
"Hoo!"she laughed,"afraid of our house!"
But he was still dissatisfied. Something was making her restless; she was out in the garden too much. And when she was not in the garden she was always walking about the house. One or two days, when he had stayed at home to work, he had heard her on the stairs and up and down the passages; up and down, up and down. He knew that women in her state of health were abnormal, had strange
To-day she said,"Come down and have a look at the garden, Martin; I've been 142
planting things."So he put down his bag and they walked to the end of the garden, where a new flower-bed looked scratched-up and disordered, and was edged with little drooping plants.
"Very pretty,"he said, looking at her and absently prodding at the mould with his umbrella."I suppose they'll grow?"
"Oh yes, Martin, they're going to grow right up and hide the board-fence; it's so ugly."
"If they're going to be so tall you should have planted them at the back and put the smaller things in front. As it is, everything else would be hidden."
"Why, yes,"she cried, disheartened,"I never thought of that—oh, Martin! It seemed such a pity to go walking over the new flower-bed, leaving foot marks; that's why I put them near the edge—and now I can't unplant them. What a lot there is to learn! Will you take me to the Gardening Exhibition next summer? I was reading about it—there are corners of gardens by all the famous people, and stone seats, and fountains—we might buy a sundial there,
and there are lectures you can go to, and prize roses. We should learn a lot."
"Next summer? Well, we'll see,"he said."Meanwhile don't overdo it—all this gardening."They skirted the flower-bed and went to lean up against the fence, resting their elbows on the top. She was half an inch taller than he, and her high heels gave her a further advantage. A little wind blew in their faces as they looked out towards the fading distance. The fields were dotted here and there with clumps of elm; with here and there a farmhouse roof, the long roofs and gleaming windows of a factory.
"This open country stretches for such miles,"she said dreamily."Sometimes, on these quiet misty days, I begin to think the sea's over there, and that if the clouds along the distance lifted I should see it suddenly, shining. And, with this wind, I could be sure I smell and hear it."
"Yes, I know. One often gets that feeling."
''Do you?''
"Well, no,"he said confusedly,"but Tm sure one does. I can imagine it."Someone
had said the same thing to him, just here, three or four years ago.
"You often understand before I say things, don't you, Martin? Isn't it curious? All sorts of woman's discoveries that I've made about this house were nothing new at all to you. Like my idea about a fitment cupboard for that corner of the landing. Fancy that having occurred to you!"
He did not answer. He had taken off his hat, and she watched the wind blowing through his fair hair, as soft and fine as a baby's. Little wrinkles were coming in the forehead that she thought so noble, and his face—well, one could not analyse it, but it was a lovely face. She pictured him swaying for forty minutes in the train, with his hand against the luggage-rack, in order to be with her now, and said,"Oh, Martin, Martin!"
"Let's come into the house."
"No, not into the house."
"Why not? It's cold, you're cold, little woman."He drew her arm through his and chafed her hand.
"Let's stay out,"she begged. "It isn't
time for supper. It isn't beginning to get dark yet. Do stay out—dear Martin!"
"Why,"he said, looking round at her,"one would think you were afraid of the house."
"Hoo!"she laughed,"afraid of our house!"
But he was still dissatisfied. Something was making her restless; she was out in the garden too much. And when she was not in the garden she was always walking about the house. One or two days, when he had stayed at home to work, he had heard her on the stairs and up and down the passages; up and down, up and down. He knew that women in her state of health were abnormal, had strange
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