this essentially feminine touch. And when my wife is on it, then and not till then do I feel that the place begins to be habitable. Ask her if this is not so.
And I will work far into the night, long after she has grown exhausted, carrying out her excellent suggestions, lugging great wardrobes across and across the floor till they are in exactly the situation to make right the new adjustment of the large tables and the piano, if there is one.
And I welcome every suggestion she makes (from the couch that used to be a bed), because I know her to have a sound instinct for placing furniture. It is extraordinary how sound it is. We always agree—in the end. How lucky it is that we should be married! Supposing she had wedded a man who detested this kind of hard labour. An unfastidious man. A man such as I used to be before I knew her.
Just now, however, I am going to fish.
The harp I will unpack and the harp-case I will help the gardener to carry away. And I will swab up the leakage of the Spanish Jug, and then I will fish.
For you are to know, sir, that I have not fished in chalk water these three years. It is absolutely necessary for me to angle.
And you are also to know, sir—(No, my wife,
