He assured himself that it was perfect, but he wondered what was the loyal thing for a married couple to do when the conversation came to a dead stop.  And did the conversation come to a stop because they preferred to sit in silent sympathy and communion, or because they had nothing interesting to talk about?  Stuart doubted if silence was the truest expression of the most perfect confidence and sympathy.  He generally found when he was interested, that either he or his companion talked all the time.  It was when he was bored that he sat silent.  But it was probably different with married people.  Possibly they thought of each other during these pauses, and of their own affairs and interests, and then he asked himself how many interests could one fairly retain with which the other had nothing to do?

“I suppose,” thought Stuart, “that I had better compromise and read aloud.  Should you like me to read aloud?” he asked, doubtfully.

The Picture brightened perceptibly at this, and said that she thought that would be charming.  “We might make it quite instructive,” she suggested, entering eagerly into the idea.  “We ought to agree to read so many pages every night.  Suppose we begin with Guizot’s ’History of France.’  I have always meant to read that, the illustrations look so interesting.”

“Yes, we might do that,” assented Stuart, doubtfully.  “It is in six volumes, isn’t it?  Suppose now, instead,” he suggested, with an impartial air, “we begin that to-morrow night, and go this evening to see Seldon’s new play, ‘The Fool and His Money.’  It’s not too late, and he has saved a box for us, and Weimer and Rives and Sloane will be there, and—­”

The Picture’s beautiful face settled for just an instant in an expression of disappointment.  “Of course,” she replied, slowly, “if you wish it.  But I thought you said,” she went on with a sweet smile, “that this was perfect.  Now you want to go out again.  Isn’t this better than a hot theatre?  You might put up with it for one evening, don’t you think?”

“Put up with it!” exclaimed Stuart, enthusiastically; “I could spend every evening so.  It was only a suggestion.  It wasn’t that I wanted to go so much as that I thought Seldon might be a little hurt if I didn’t.  But I can tell him you were not feeling very well, and that we will come some other evening.  He generally likes to have us there on the first night, that’s all.  But he’ll understand.”

“Oh,” said the Picture, “if you put it in the light of a duty to your friend, of course we will go—­”

“Not at all,” replied Stuart, heartily; “I will read something.  I should really prefer it.  How would you like something of Browning’s?”

“Oh, I read all of Browning once,” said the Picture.  “I think I should like something new.”

Stuart gasped at this, but said nothing, and began turning over the books on the centre-table.  He selected one of the monthly magazines, and choosing a story which neither of them had read, sat down comfortably in front of the fire, and finished it without interruption and to the satisfaction of the Picture and himself.  The story had made the half hour pass very pleasantly, and they both commented on it with interest.