“Oh, don’t!” she said, her voice weak from suppressed laughter, and then the laughter burst forth uncontrollable.

“Yes,” he said, delighted with himself and her.  “I told him to go and bury himself!” “I suppose you don’t like Mr. Wrissell?”

“Well—­” he temporized.

“I didn’t at first,” she said.  “I hated him.  But I like him now, though I must say I adore teasing him.  Mr. Wrissell is what I call a gentleman.  You know he was Lord Woldo’s heir.  And when Lord Woldo married me it was a bit of a blow for him!  But he took it like a lamb.  He never turned a hair, and he was more polite than any of them.  I daresay you know Lord Woldo saw me in a musical comedy at Scarborough—­he has a place near there, ye know.  Mr. Wrissell had made him angry about some of his New Thought fads, and I do believe he asked me to marry him just to annoy Mr. Wrissell.  He used to say to me, my husband did, that he’d married me in too much of a hurry, and that it was too bad on Mr. Wrissell.  And then he laughed, and I laughed too.  ‘After all,’ he used to say, my husband did, ’To marry an actress is an accident that might happen to any member of the House of Lords—­and it does happen to a lot of ’em—­but they don’t marry anything as beautiful as you, Blanche,’ he used to say.  ’And you stick up for yourself, Blanche,’ he used to say.  ‘I’ll stand by you,’ he said.  He was a straight ’un, my husband was.  They left me alone until he died.  And then they began—­I mean his folks.  And when Bobbie was born it got worse.  Only I must say even then Mr. Wrissell never turned a hair.  Everybody seemed to make out that I ought to be very grateful to them, and I ought to think myself very lucky.  Me—­a peeress of the realm!  They wanted me to change.  But how could I change?  I was Blanche Wilmot—­on the road for ten years—­never got a show in London—­and Blanche Wilmot I shall ever be—­peeress or no peeress!  It was no joke being Lord Woldo’s wife, I can tell you, and it’s still less of a joke being Lord Woldo’s mother!  You imagine it.  It’s worse than carrying about a china vase all the time on a slippery floor!  Am I any happier now than I was before I married?  Well, I am!  There’s more worry in one way, but there’s less in another.  And of course I’ve got Bobbie!  But it isn’t all beer and skittles, and I let ’em know it, too.  I can’t do what I like!  And I’m just a sort of exile, you know.  I used to enjoy being on the stage and showing myself off.  A hard life, but one does enjoy it.  And one gets used to it.  One gets to need it.  Sometimes I feel I’d give anything to be able to go on the stage again—­Oh—­oh—!”

She sneezed; then took breath.

“Shall I put some more coal on the fire?” Edward Henry suggested.

“Perhaps I’d better ring,” she hesitated.

“No, I’ll do it.”

He put coal on the fire.

“And if you’d feel easier with that flannel round your head, please do put it on again.”