“Shall I shave you this morning, or would you rather do it yourself?” Always the same soft, caressive, subservient, yet managing voice.

“I don’t know. Do you mind waiting a while. I’ll ring when I’m ready.”

“Very good, Sir Clifford!” she replied, so soft and submissive, withdrawing quietly. But every rebuff stored up new energy of will in her.

When he rang, after a time, she would appear at once. And then he would say:

“I think I’d rather you shaved me this morning.”

Her heart gave a little thrill, and she replied with extra softness:

“Very good, Sir Clifford!”