To this she made no answer.

“Well,” said Soames, “I want you to come out to the Stores with me, and after that we’ll go to the Park.”

“I don’t want to go out; I have a headache.”

Soames replied: “If ever I want you to do anything, you’ve always got a headache. It’ll do you good to come and sit under the trees.”

She did not answer.

Soames was silent for some minutes; at last he said: “I don’t know what your idea of a wife’s duty is. I never have known!”

He had not expected her to reply, but she did.

“I have tried to do what you want; it’s not my fault that I haven’t been able to put my heart into it.”

“Whose fault is it, then?” He watched her askance.

“Before we were married you promised to let me go if our marriage was not a success. Is it a success?”

Soames frowned.

“Success,” he stammered⁠—“it would be a success if you behaved yourself properly!”

“I have tried,” said Irene. “Will you let me go?”

Soames turned away. Secretly alarmed, he took refuge in bluster.

“Let you go? You don’t know what you’re talking about. Let you go? How can I let you go? We’re married, aren’t we? Then, what are you talking about? For God’s sake, don’t let’s have any of this sort of nonsense! Get your hat on, and come and sit in the Park.”

“Then, you won’t let me go?”

He felt her eyes resting on him with a strange, touching look.