Mary was quite pleased with her husband's good temper. It was so nice of
him not to find fault with her plan; 'He's so good to me,' she thought,
and that was what she often said to her brother, who did not care much
for Darnell. They sat down on the seat under the mulberry, close
together, and she let Darnell take her hand, and as she felt his shy,
hesitating fingers touch her in the shadow, she pressed them ever so
softly, and as he fondled her hand, his breath was on her neck, and she
heard his passionate, hesitating voice whisper, 'My dear, my dear,' as
his lips touched her cheek. She trembled a little, and waited. Darnell
kissed her gently on the cheek and drew away his hand, and when he spoke
he was almost breathless. 'We had better go in now,' he said. 'There is a heavy dew, and you might
catch cold.' A warm, scented gale came to them from beyond the walls. He longed to
ask her to stay out with him all night beneath the tree, that they might
whisper to one another, that the scent of her hair might inebriate him,
that he might feel her dress still brushing against his ankles. But he
could not find the words, and it was absurd, and she was so gentle that
she would do whatever he asked, however foolish it might be, just
because he asked her. He was not worthy to kiss her lips; he bent down
and kissed her silk bodice, and again he felt that she trembled, and he
was ashamed, fearing that he had frightened her. They went slowly into the house, side by side, and Darnell lit the gas
in the drawing-room, where they always sat on Sunday evenings. Mrs.
Darnell felt a little tired and lay down on the sofa, and Darnell took
the arm-chair opposite. For a while they were silent, and then Darnell
said suddenly--

'What's wrong with the Sayces? You seemed to think there was something a
little strange about them. Their maid looks quite quiet.' 'Oh, I don't know that one ought to pay any attention to servants'
gossip. They're not always very truthful.' 'It was Alice told you, wasn't it?' 'Yes. She was speaking to me the other day, when I was in the kitchen in
the afternoon.' 'But what was it?' 'Oh, I'd rather not tell you, Edward. It's not pleasant. I scolded Alice
for repeating it to me.' Darnell got up and took a small, frail chair near the sofa. 'Tell me,' he said again, with an odd perversity. He did not really care
to hear about the household next door, but he remembered how his wife's
cheeks flushed in the afternoon, and now he was looking at her eyes. 'Oh, I really couldn't tell you, dear. I should feel ashamed.' 'But you're my wife.' 'Yes, but it doesn't make any difference. A woman doesn't like to talk
about such things.' Darnell bent his head down. His heart was beating; he put his ear to her
mouth and said, 'Whisper.' Mary drew his head down still lower with her gentle hand, and her cheeks
burned as she whispered--

'Alice says that--upstairs--they have only--one room furnished. The maid
told her--herself.' With an unconscious gesture she pressed his head to her breast, and he
in turn was bending her red lips to his own, when a violent jangle
clamoured through the silent house. They sat up, and Mrs. Darnell went
hurriedly to the door. 'That's Alice,' she said. 'She is always in in time. It has only just
struck ten.' Darnell shivered with annoyance. His lips, he knew, had almost been
opened. Mary's pretty handkerchief, delicately scented from a little
flagon that a school friend had given her, lay on the floor, and he
picked it up, and kissed it, and hid it away. The question of the range occupied them all through June and far into
July. Mrs. Darnell took every opportunity of going to the West End and
investigating the capacity of the latest makes, gravely viewing the new
improvements and hearing what the shopmen had to say; while Darnell, as
he said, 'kept his eyes open' about the City. They accumulated quite a
literature of the subject, bringing away illustrated pamphlets, and in
the evenings it was an amusement to look at the pictures. They viewed
with reverence and interest the drawings of great ranges for hotels and
public institutions, mighty contrivances furnished with a series of
ovens each for a different use, with wonderful apparatus for grilling,
with batteries of accessories which seemed to invest the cook almost
with the dignity of a chief engineer. But when, in one of the lists,
they encountered the images of little toy 'cottage' ranges, for four
pounds, and even for three pounds ten, they grew scornful, on the
strength of the eight or ten pound article which they meant to
purchase--when the merits of the divers patents had been thoroughly
thrashed out. The 'Raven' was for a long time Mary's favourite. It promised the utmost
economy with the highest efficiency, and many times they were on the
point of giving the order. But the 'Glow' seemed equally seductive, and
it was only £8. 5s. as compared with £9. 7s. 6d., and though the 'Raven'
was supplied to the Royal Kitchen, the 'Glow' could show more fervent
testimonials from continental potentates. It seemed a debate without end, and it endured day after day till that
morning, when Darnell woke from the dream of the ancient wood, of the
fountains rising into grey vapour beneath the heat of the sun. As he
dressed, an idea struck him, and he brought it as a shock to the hurried
breakfast, disturbed by the thought of the City 'bus which passed the
corner of the street at 9.15. 'I've got an improvement on your plan, Mary,' he said, with triumph. 'Look at that,' and he flung a little book on the table. He laughed. 'It beats your notion all to fits. After all, the great
expense is the coal. It's not the stove--at least that's not the real
mischief. It's the coal is so dear. And here you are. Look at those oil
stoves. They don't burn any coal, but the cheapest fuel in the
world--oil; and for two pounds ten you can get a range that will do
everything you want.' 'Give me the book,' said Mary, 'and we will talk it over in the evening,
when you come home. Must you be going?' Darnell cast an anxious glance at the clock. 'Good-bye,' and they kissed each other seriously and dutifully, and
Mary's eyes made Darnell think of those lonely water-pools, hidden in
the shadow of the ancient woods. So, day after day, he lived in the grey phantasmal world, akin to death,
that has, somehow, with most of us, made good its claim to be called
life. To Darnell the true life would have seemed madness, and when, now
and again, the shadows and vague images reflected from its splendour
fell across his path, he was afraid, and took refuge in what he would
have called the sane 'reality' of common and usual incidents and
interests. His absurdity was, perhaps, the more evident, inasmuch as
'reality' for him was a matter of kitchen ranges, of saving a few
shillings; but in truth the folly would have been greater if it had been
concerned with racing stables, steam yachts, and the spending of many
thousand pounds.