“What matter, so long as he enjoys it?”

“Pooh!  He doesnt know what enjoyment means.”

They said nothing further until they were in the train, where Marian sat looking listlessly through the window, whilst Conolly, opposite, reclining against the cushions, looked thoughtfully at her.

“Ned,” said she, suddenly.

“My dear.”

“Do you know that Sholto is more infatuated about me than ever?”

“Naturally.  You are lovelier than when he last saw you.”

“You are nearly as complimentary as he,” said Marian, blushing with a gratification which she was very unwilling to betray.  “He noticed it sooner than you.  I discovered it myself in the glass before either of you.”

“No doubt you did.  What station is this?”

“I dont know.”  Then, raising her voice so as to be overheard, she exclaimed “Here is a stupid man coming into our carriage.”

A young man entered the compartment, and, after one glance at Marian, who turned her back on him impatiently, spent the remainder of the journey making furtive attempts to catch a second glimpse of her face.  Conolly looked a shade graver at his wife’s failure in perfect self-control; but he by no means shared her feelings toward the intrusive passenger.  Marian and he were in different humors; and he did not wish to be left alone with her.

As they walked from Addison Road railway station to their house, Conolly mused in silence with his eyes on the gardens by the way.  Marian, who wished to talk, followed his measured steps with impatience.

“Let me take your arm, Ned:  I cannot keep up with you.”

“Certainly.”

“I hope I am not inconveniencing you,” she said, after a further interval of silence.

“Hm—­no.”

“I am afraid I am.  It does not matter.  I can get on by myself.”

“Arm in arm is such an inconvenient and ridiculous mode of locomotion—­you need not struggle in the public street:  now that you have got my arm you shall keep it—­I say it is such an inconvenient and ridiculous mode of locomotion that if you were any one else I should prefer to wheel you home in a barrow.  Our present mode of proceeding would be inexcusable if I were a traction-engine, and you my tender.”

“Then let me go.  What will the people think if they see a great engineer violating the laws of mechanics by dragging his wife by the arm?”

“They will appreciate my motives; and, in fact, if you watch them, you will detect a thinly-disguised envy in their countenances.  I violate the laws of mechanics—­to use your own sarcastic phrase—­for many reasons.  I like to be envied when there are solid reasons for it.  It gratifies my vanity to be seen in this artistic quarter with a pretty woman on my arm.  Again, the sense of possessing you is no longer an abstraction when I hold you bodily, and feel the impossibility of keeping step with you.  Besides, Man, who was a savage only yesterday, has his infirmities, and finds a poetic pleasure in the touch of the woman he loves.  And I may add that you have been in such a bad temper all the afternoon that I suspect you of an itching to box my ears, and therefore feel safer with your arm in my custody.”