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She asserted herself。
〃I can't see what difference it makes。 They didn't know us。 And if they
admit people for money〃
〃I can't help it。 And as for the man from Ohio〃
〃But he was so funny！〃 she interrupted。 〃And he was really very nice。〃
I was silent。 Her point of view； eminently sensible as it was；
exasperated me。 We were leaning over the parapet of a little…stone
bridge。 Her face was turned away from me； but presently I realized that
she was crying。 Men and women； villagers； passing across the bridge；
looked at us curiously。 I was miserable； and somewhat appalled；
resentful； yet striving to be gentle and conciliatory。 I assured her
that she was talking nonsense； that I loved her。 But I did not really
love her at that moment； nor did she relent as easily as usual。 It was
not until we were together in our sitting…room； a few hours later； that
she gave in。 I felt a tremendous sense of relief。
〃Hugh； I'll try to be what you want。 You know I am trying。 But don't
kill what is natural in me。〃
I was touched by the appeal； and repentant。。。
It is impossible to say when the little worries； annoyances and
disagreements began； when I first felt a restlessness creeping over me。
I tried to hide these moods from her； but always she divined them。 And
yet I was sure that I loved Maude； in a surprisingly short period I had
become accustomed to her； dependent on her ministrations and the normal；
cosy intimacy of our companionship。 I did not like to think that the
keen edge of the enjoyment of possession was wearing a little； while at
the same time I philosophized that the divine fire； when legalized；
settles down to a comfortable glow。 The desire to go home that grew upon
me I attributed to the irritation aroused by the spectacle of a fixed
social order commanding such unquestioned deference from the many who
were content to remain resignedly outside of it。 Before the setting in
of the Liberal movement and the 〃American invasion〃 England was a country
in which （from my point of view） one must be 〃somebody〃 in order to be
happy。 I was 〃somebody〃 at home； or at least rapidly becoming so。。。。
London was shrouded； parliament had risen； and the great houses were
closed。 Day after day we issued forth from a musty and highly
respectable hotel near Piccadilly to a gloomy Tower； a soggy Hampton
Court or a mournful British Museum。 Our native longing for luxuryor
rather my native longingimpelled me to abandon Smith's Hotel for a huge
hostelry where our suite overlooked the Thames； where we ran across a man
I had known slightly at Harvard； and other Americans with whom we made
excursions and dined and went to the theatre。 Maude liked these persons；
I did not find them especially congenial。 My life…long habit of
unwillingness to accept what life sent in its ordinary course was
asserting itself； but Maude took her friends as she found them； and I was
secretly annoyed by her lack of discrimination。 In addition to this； the
sense of having been pulled up by the roots grew upon me。
〃Suppose；〃 Maude surprised me by suggesting one morning as we sat at
breakfast watching the river craft flit like phantoms through the yellow…
green fog〃 suppose we don't go to France； after all； Hugh？〃
〃Not go to France！〃 I exclaimed。 〃Are you tired of the trip？〃
〃Oh； Hugh！〃 Her voice caught。 〃I could go on； always； if you were
content。〃
〃Andwhat makes you think that I'm not content？〃
Her smile had in it just a touch of wistfulness。
〃I understand you； Hugh； better than you think。 You want to get back to
your work； andand I should be happier。 I'm not so silly and so
ignorant as to think that I can satisfy you always。 And I'd like to get
settled at home；I really should。〃
There surged up within me a feeling of relief。 I seized her hand as it
lay on the table。
〃We'll come abroad another time； and go to France；〃 I said。 〃Maude；
you're splendid！〃
She shook her head。
〃Oh； no； I'm not。〃
〃You do satisfy me；〃 I insisted。 〃It isn't that at all。 But I think；
perhaps； it would be wiser to go back。 It's rather a crucial time with
me； now that Mr。 Watling's in Washington。 I've just arrived at a
position where I shall be able to make a good deal of money； and later
on〃
〃It isn't the money； Hugh；〃 she cried； with a vehemence which struck me
as a little odd。 〃I sometimes think we'd be a great deal happier
withoutwithout all you are going to make。〃
I laughed。
〃Well； I haven't made it yet。〃
She possessed the frugality of the Hutchinses。 And some times my
lavishness had frightened her； as when we had taken the suite of rooms we
now occupied。
〃Are you sure you can afford them； Hugh？〃 she had asked when we first
surveyed them。
I began married life； and carried it on without giving her any conception
of the state of my finances。 She had an allowance from the first。
As the steamer slipped westward my spirits rose； to reach a climax of
exhilaration when I saw the towers of New York rise gleaming like huge
stalagmites in the early winter sun。 Maude likened them more happilyto
gigantic ivory chessmen。 Well； New York was America's chessboard； and
the Great Players had already begun to make moves that astonished the
world。 As we sat at breakfast in a Fifth Avenue hotel I ran my eye
eagerly over the stock…market reports and the financial news； and rallied
Maude for a lack of spirits。
〃Aren't you glad to be home？〃 I asked her； as we sat in a hansom。
〃Of course I am； Hugh！〃 she protested。 〃ButI can't look upon New York
as home； somehow。 It frightens me。〃
I laughed indulgently。
〃You'll get used to it；〃 I said。 〃We'll be coming here a great deal； off
and on。〃
She was silent。 But later； when we took a hansom and entered the streams
of traffic； she responded to the stimulus of the place： the movement； the
colour； the sight of the well…appointed carriages； of the well…fed； well…
groomed people who sat in them； the enticement of the shops in which we
made our purchases had their effect； and she became cheerful again。。。。
In the evening we took the 〃Limited〃 for home。
We lived for a month with my mother； and then moved into our own house。
It was one which I had rented from Howard Ogilvy； and it stood on the
corner of Baker and Clinton streets； near that fashionable neighbourhood
called 〃the Heights。〃 Ogilvy； who was some ten years older than I； and
who belonged to one of our old families； had embarked on a career then
becoming common； but which at first was regarded as somewhat meteoric：
gradually abandoning the practice of law； and perceiving the
possibilities of the city of his birth； he had 〃gambled〃 in real estate
and other enterprises； such as our local water company； until he had
quadrupled his inheritance。 He had built a mansion on Grant Avenue； the
wide thoroughfare bisecting the Heights。 The house he had vacated was
not large； but essentially distinctive； with the oddity characteristic of
the revolt against the banal architecture of the 80's。 The curves of the
tiled roof enfolded the upper windows； the walls were thick； the note one
of mystery。 I remember Maude's naive delight when we insp