Oh, there were bumps and bruises, of course.  She hadn’t forgotten that tragic hour in the canoe last summer.  There had, indeed, been two or three minor variants on the same theme since.  She had seen Rodney drop off now and again into a scowling abstraction, during which it was so evident he didn’t want to talk to her, or even be reminded that she was about, that she had gone away flushed and wondering, and needing an effort to hold back the tears.

These weren’t frequent occurrences, though.  Once settled into what apparently was going to be their winter’s routine, they had so little time alone together that these moments, when they came, had almost the tension of those that unmarried lovers enjoy.  They were something to look forward to and make the delicious utmost of.

So, until she got to wondering about Bertie, Rose’s instinctive attitude toward the group of young to middle-aged married people into which her own marriage had introduced her, was founded on the assumption that, allowing for occasional exceptions, the husbands and wives felt toward each other as she and Rodney did—­were held together by the same irresistible, unanalyzable attraction, could remember severally, their vivid intoxicating hours, just as she remembered the hour when Rodney had told her the story and the philosophy of his life.

Bertie, or rather the demand for what Bertie supplied, together with Frederica’s explanation of it, brought her the misgiving that marriage was not, perhaps, even between people who loved each other,—­between husbands who were not “unfaithful” and wives who were not “mercenary”—­quite so simple as it seemed.

The misgiving was not very serious at first—­half amused, and wholly academic, because she hadn’t, as yet, the remotest notion that the thing concerned, or ever could concern, herself; but the point was, it formed a nucleus, and the property of a nucleus is that it has the power of attracting to itself particles out of the surrounding nebulous vapor.  It grows as it attracts, and it attracts more strongly as it grows.

An illustration of this principle is in the fact that, but for the misgiving, she would hardly have asked Simone Greville what she meant by saying that though she had always supposed the fundamental sex attraction between men and women to be the same in its essentials, in all epochs and in all civilizations, her acquaintance with upper-class American women was leading her to admit a possible exception.

Since that amiable celestial, Wu Ting Fang, made his survey of our western civilization and left us wondering whether after all we had the right name for it, no one has studied our leisured and cultivated classes with more candor and penetration than this great Franco-Austrian actress.  She had ample opportunities for observation, because during the first week of her tour the precise people who count the most in our informal social hierarchy took her up and, upon examination, took her in.