’Woman’s sphere is the home, Monica.  Unfortunately girls are often obliged to go out and earn their living, but this is unnatural, a necessity which advanced civilization will altogether abolish.  You shall read John Ruskin; every word he says about women is good and precious.  If a woman can neither have a home of her own, nor find occupation in any one else’s she is deeply to be pitied; her life is bound to be unhappy.  I sincerely believe that an educated woman had better become a domestic servant than try to imitate the life of a man.’

Monica seemed to listen attentively, but before long she accustomed herself to wear this look whilst in truth she was thinking her own thoughts.  And as often as not they were of a nature little suspected by her prosing companion.

He believed himself the happiest of men.  He had taken a daring step, but fortune smiled upon him, Monica was all he had imagined in his love-fever; knowledge of her had as yet brought to light no single untruth, not trait of character that he could condemn.  That she returned his love he would not and could not doubt.  And something she said to him one day, early in their honeymoon, filled up the measure of his bliss.

’What a change you have made in my life, Edmund!  How much I have to thank you for!’

That was what he had hoped to hear.  He had thought it himself; had wondered whether Monica saw her position in this light.  And when the words actually fell from her lips he glowed with joy.  This, to his mind, was the perfect relation of wife to husband.  She must look up to him as her benefactor, her providence.  It would have pleased him still better if she had not possessed a penny of her own, but happily Monica seemed never to give a thought to the sum at her disposal.

Surely he was the easiest of men to live with.  When he first became aware that Monica suffered an occasional discontent, it caused him troublous surprise.  As soon as he understood that she desired more freedom of movement, he became anxious, suspicious irritable.  Nothing like a quarrel had yet taken place between them, but Widdowson began to perceive that he must exert authority in a way he had imagined would never be necessary.  All his fears, after all, were not groundless.  Monica’s undomestic life, and perhaps the association with those Chelsea people, had left results upon her mind.  By way of mild discipline, he first of all suggested a closer attention to the affairs of the house.  Would it not be well if she spent an hour a day in sewing or fancy work?  Monica so far obeyed as to provide herself with some plain needlework, but Widdowson, watching with keen eye, soon remarked that her use of the needle was only a feint.  He lay awake o’ nights, pondering darkly.

On the present evening he was more decidedly out of temper than ever hitherto.  He satisfied his hunger hurriedly and in silence.  Then, observing that Monica ate only a few morsels, he took offence at this.