’I look at it in this way.  We ought to regard ourselves as married people living under exceptionally favourable circumstances.  One has to bear in mind the brutal fact that man and wife, as a rule, see a great deal too much of each other—­thence most of the ills of married life:  squabblings, discontents, small or great disgusts, leading often enough to altri guai People get to think themselves victims of incompatibility, when they are merely suffering from a foolish custom—­the habit of being perpetually together.  In fact, it’s an immoral custom.  What does immorality mean but anything that tends to kill love, to harden hearts?  The common practice of man and wife occupying the same room is monstrous, gross; it’s astounding that women of any sensitiveness endure it.  In fact, their sensitiveness is destroyed.  Even an ordinary honeymoon generally ends in quarrel—­as it certainly ought to.  You and I escape all that.  Each of us lives a separate life, with the result that we like each other better as time goes on; I speak for myself, at all events.  I look forward to our meetings.  I open the door to you with as fresh a feeling of pleasure as when you came first.  If we had been ceaselessly together day and night—­well, you know the result as well as I do.’

He spoke with indulgent gravity, in the tone of kindness to which his voice was naturally attuned.  And Nancy’s reply, though it expressed a stronger feeling, struck the same harmonious note.

’I can agree with all that.  But it applies to people married in the ordinary way.  I was speaking of ourselves, placed as we are.’

‘I don’t pretend to like the concealment,’ said Tarrant.  ’For one thing, there’s a suggestion of dishonour about it.  We’ve gone over all that—­’

’Oh, I don’t mean that for a moment.  It isn’t really dishonourable.  My father could never have objected to you for my husband.  He only wanted to guard me—­Mary says so, and he told her everything.  He thought me a silly, flighty girl, and was afraid I should be trapped for the sake of my money.  I wish—­oh how I wish I had had the courage to tell him!  He would have seen you, and liked and trusted you—­how could he help?’

’It might have been better—­but who knows whether he would have seen me with your eyes, Nancy?’

‘Yes, yes.  But I was going to say——­’

She hesitated.

‘Say on.’

‘There are so many difficulties before us, dear.’

’Not if we continue to think of each other as we do now.  Do you mean it might be discovered?’

‘Yes, through no fault of ours.’

She hesitated again.

‘Quite sure you haven’t told anybody?’

‘No one.’

Tarrant had a doubt on this point.  He strongly suspected that Jessica Morgan knew the truth, but he shrank from pressing Nancy to an avowal of repeated falsehood.

’Then it’s very unlikely we should be found out.  Who would dream of tracking you here, for instance?  And suppose we were seen together in the street or in the country, who would suspect anything more than love-making? and that is not forbidden you.’