Rogers has raised
your salary, or done one of those fine things you always say he's
going to do. Tell me, dear, please tell me.' There were new, unpaid
bills in her pocket, and she almost felt tempted to show them. She
poked the fire fussily.
'Albinia,' he answered importantly, with an expression that brought
the chin up closer to the lips, and made the eyebrows almost stern,
'Mr. Rogers will do the right thing always--when the right time comes.
As a matter of fact'--here he reverted to the former train of thought
--'both he and I are misfits in a practical, sordid age. We should
have been born in Greece---'
'I simply love your poems, Herbert,' she interrupted gently, wondering
how she managed to conceal her growing impatience so well, 'but
there's not the money in them that there ought to be, and they don't
pay for coals or for Ronald's flannels---'
'Albinia,' he put in softly, 'they relieve the heart, and so make me a
happier and a better man. But--I should say he would,' he added,
answering her distant question about the salary.
The secret was almost out. It hung on the edge of his lips. A moment
longer he hugged it deliciously. He loved these little conversations
with his wife. Never a shade of asperity entered into them. And this
one in particular afforded him a peculiar delight.
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