’A sweet, attractive kind of grace,... 
  The lineaments of gospel books,’

That’s just it:  it’s a look that makes one think about one’s prayers, if one only knew them.  But whether the man slighted her or not, he missed it—­confound him!—­in losing such a love.  I’ll make her tell me his name.  And as for being my sister, that’s all nonsense, of course, as she’s my wife.”  Then more thoughtfully, “Well, maybe not:  a household where there is no love is cruel—­I knew that in my early home—­and children are a beastly trouble, and as expensive as a man’s wines.  She’s a brick, this wife of mine, and as sensible as steel.  I’ll put myself in her hands for better or for worse, I vow I will!

“The jolly way she manged that Rollins affair was proof poz of her ability.  Her cool assumption of wifely dignity—­her actually bringing them up to see me without announcing their coming to me, and never letting them have one bout at me, was beyond anything!  It’s like a dip in the sea to recall it all.  Her breezy voice coming in before them was all the warning I had:  ’Oh certainly, you can come up and look at him, but not talk to him:  he’s nervous and feverish, and I cannot permit even such old friends as you doubtless are to say anything to him.  You know, of course, the doctor thought he needed constant attention, and caused us to hurry our marriage in a most Gretna-Green style; but I could not nurse him unless we were married.  And it did not matter so much, after all, since we had loved’—­and she hesitated with the prettiest affectation of having said something she ought not—­’we had cared for each other since we were quite children.  Ross’s sister Bell was my school-friend.’  Then she brought them straight to the bed, and stooping down gave me the only kiss with which she has honored me—­her show kiss, I call it—­saying, ‘My darling’ (how soft she said it, too, with a little trilling cadence upon the sweet old word!)—­’My darling, you are not to speak, or even look, save this once:  now I must cover up my dearie’s eyes;’ and she laid her cool hand over my eyes and held it there while they stayed.  ’These are some kind New York friends, Mr. Rollins and his good wife’—­and a faint pressure on my face emphasized the joke—­’who are come to see you.  I cannot understand all they mean, except that you have been behaving badly, making these good people’s daughter believe you meant to marry her, when of course you were only going to marry your little, ugly Percy.  Oh, my bad boy, what shall I ever do with you?  Oh the hearts you have broken while you have been waiting for me!  Ah! dear, bad boy!’—­and, as if overcome with tenderness, she laid her cheek down on mine.  I clasped my arms about her—­the first and last time I’ve had a chance, by George!—­but she sprang away with a laugh:  ’No, you shall not be petted for being bad.  Why, Ross, these dear people came to take you and marry you to their beautiful daughter, for I know she’s a beauty, since her mother is still so handsome.’