Part 50

"So do I." He threw himself down on the ground at her feet, lay flat on his back, his clasped hands behind his head, and gazed up into the tree-tops.

"I'll take your advice into careful consideration," said he.

"I know you won't do anything rash," said she, and they both laughed again.

"How much more diplomatic that sort of talk is," he observed. "Why do we ever allow ourselves to use any other?"

"Because we are human, I suppose." Juliet was putting a mass of waving brown hair, disordered by the fight, into shape again. "It isn't nice. We don't do it often. To-night you came home tired, and found a wife who had been entertaining people from town all the afternoon. But it's all right now, isn't it?"

She bent forward, and Anthony took her outstretched hand in his own and gave it a grip which made it sting. He began to whistle cheerfully.

"Should we be happier if we never disagreed?" she asked thoughtfully.

The whistle stopped. "Jupiter, no! I want a thinking being to talk things over with, not a mental pincushion."

"Thank you.--Isn't it lovely here?"

"Delightful.--Julie, do you know we'll have been married five years next September?"

"It doesn't seem possible."

"I shouldn't know it, to look at you," he observed. He rolled upon his left side and regarded her from under intent brows. "You haven't grown a day older."

"I'm not sure that's a compliment."

"It's meant for one. Do you know you're a beauty?"

"I never was one and never shall be," she answered laughing, but she could not object to the obvious sincerity of his opinion as he delivered it.

"You're near enough to satisfy me. I'd rather have your good looks than all the--Well, I sat in front of a newly married pair on the way home to-night--that fellow Scrivener and his bride. She's what people call a raving beauty, I suppose. I wouldn't have her in the house at a dollar an hour. She's a whiner. Had him doing something to satisfy her whim every minute. I heard him trying to tell her about something that interested him, but she couldn't take time from herself to listen. His voice had a note of fatigue in it, already, or I'm not Robeson. I tell you, Juliet--that's the sort of thing that makes a bachelor vow to stay single, and he can't be blamed."

"Suppose a bachelor had overheard us half an hour ago?"

"I'm glad none did--but if he had it wouldn't have disgusted him the way the other sort of thing did me to-day. A brisk little altercation is nothing, with unlimited hours of friendliness and understanding before and after. But a perpetual drizzle of fault finding and exactions--would make a fellow go hang himself. Mrs. Robeson, do you know, you're a very exceptional young person?"

"In what way, sir?"

"Whatever you do, you never nag. I've an awful suspicion that Judith Carey nags. You know how to let a man alone when he's in the mood for being alone. She never does. Carey had me out there not long ago, for what he called a quiet, confidential talk on some business matters. We went into what is supposed to be his private room and shut the door. Probably she came to that door not less than twelve times during that two hours. She called Carey away on every sort of pretext. Once she got him to do a stroke of work for her that took up at least ten minutes neither of us could spare. And she looked like a thundercloud every time I caught a glimpse of her face. Cæsar!--think of having to live with that sort of person. No wonder Carey looks old before his time."

"It's certainly unfortunate. But I'm not an exception, Tony. There are plenty of women who know when to keep out of the way."

"Well, then, they're erratic on some other line, that's all. You're absolutely the only thoroughly sweet and sane woman I know."

"My dear boy! Remember how snappish I was just this evening."

"I was grouchy enough to match it. I tell you, Julie--the women who don't talk you to death on every subject, important or trivial, bore you with idiotic questions or impertinence about your affairs. How do I know so much about 'em? My dear, dozens of them come into the office every day, and Mr. Henderson has acquired a habit lately of turning them all over to me. I earn a double salary every hour I spend that way--wish I could put in a demand for it. Speaking of salaries, dear"--Anthony suddenly sat up--"I've no right to be grouchy, for I'm promised another advance next month."

"Splendid!" She put out her hand, and the two shook hands vigorously again, like the pair of comrades they were.

"Juliet," said her husband, watching her face closely. "It's been a happy five years, hasn't it?"

"A happy five years, Tony."

"Do you mean it?" He smiled at her. "You've never been sorry?" Then he got to his feet and held out his hand again to help her up. "The mortal combat we engaged in gave you a magnificent colour," he commented, and passed affectionate fingers across the smooth cheek near his shoulder. "Sweetheart----" he drew her into his arms--"I may fence with you once in a while with sharp words for weapons, but--do you know how I love you?"