‘There’s no harm in it, I hope.’  He laughed a little.  ’The difference isn’t distressing, but just enough to be taken into account.  At forty, or near it, a man who is happily married gets used to his slippers and his pipe —­ especially if comfort, and all the rest of it, have come after half a lifetime of homelessness.  I might often say to myself that I was wasting time, rusting, and so on; but the next day I should fall back into the easy-chair again, and hate the thought of changes.  But you, with thirty still far ahead, slippers and pipe have no particular attraction for you.’

He saw a thought in her eyes, and paused.

‘Hughie will soon be able to talk,’ fell from Alma, her look no longer that of ingenuous sweetness, but of virtue just a trifle self-conscious.  And her husband, though he read this meaning in the change, was yet pleased by the words that accompanied it.

’Yes; and then there will be more for you to do, you were going to say.  But that won’t occupy you entirely, and it doesn’t bind you to any particular spot.’

‘Perhaps not.’

She had become almost demure.  Harvey took his eyes away.

’It comes to this —­ you’re not to subordinate your life to mine.  That’s the old idea, and it still works well with some people.  Yet I don’t know; perhaps it doesn’t, really; one knows little enough about people’s lives.  At all events, it won’t work in our case, and remember that we never thought it would.  We talked it all over, with no humbug on either side —­ rather an unusual sort of talk, when one comes to think of it.  I liked you for the common-sense you showed, and I remember patting myself on the back for a rational bit of behaviour at a time when I felt rather crazy.’

Alma laughed in her gayest key.

’You were delicious.  I didn’t quite know what to make of you.  And perhaps that was the very reason ——­’

‘Reason for what?’ asked Harvey, when she broke off and looked not quite so pale as a moment before.

’I forget what I was going to say.  But please go on.  It’s very interesting —­ as your talk always is.’

’I’ve said about all.  You’re not to be dutiful and commonplace; that’s the matter in a nutshell.’

‘I don’t think you can accuse me of ever being commonplace.’

‘Perhaps not,’ said Harvey.

‘And as for dutiful, our duty is to be consistent, don’t you think?’

’Yes —­ if by consistency you mean the steady resolve to make the most of yourself.  That’s what you had in mind when you came here.  As soon as you begin to grow limp, it’s time to ask what is the matter.  I don’t offer any advice; you know yourself better than I can know you.  It’s for you to tell me what goes on in your mind.  What’s the use of our living together if you keep your most serious thoughts to yourself?’