‘You will arrest me? For—for—’ ‘Trespass, theft and spying,’ snapped Hilary. She would then hear his feet pounding up the steps and he would burst into whatever room she was sitting in and say, “There she is! My wife! Hiding her beauty from the world!” He would then run to her, grab her book or embroidery and unceremoniously toss them to the floor. On the present occasion, he appeared to have bestowed more than ordinary attention on his toilette. But, like all your overbearing sex, you must have your own way. It ought never to have begun. “Dear husband,” she murmured. She felt terrible lying to him.
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