Dane told himself he had never been happier in his life. He did not know what she did to him, but with her he was less disturbed with the sense of his own futility, and better able to work than he had been for some time. And now, too, he had a real need to work. It had cut a little into his income to give Valerie the money and the holiday, and to make the changes to the house. And though his poems had been published in a blaze of publicity and were selling well as things went there, he saw he must keep up a certain output if he was to give his wife things he now wished to give her. He had got along very comfortably before without doing much. He had set aside a sum he would never under any circumstances cut down to leave to his boys and to see them back to China, in the event of anything happening to himself. That was in the hands of Davenport Carr as a trust. He now wished to get ahead of his expenses and provide something for Valerie. This was a stimulus that did him good, reinforced his rather feeble sense of being of some use in the world.
III
“Now aren’t you glad I stuck out and refused to go?”
“Oh yes, I really am, dear. I loathe Christmas parties as much as you do. But I think you might have tempered the refusal with a little—well”—Dane waved his hands expressively,—“been a little more delicate ———”
“My dear boy, relatives don’t understand delicacy. The only thing that will make a dent in their egotism is a brick. Even then their eclipse is only temporary. If there is a more vital thing on earth than the egotism of a relative I’d like to meet it. I assure you the minute I show signs of delicacy they think I’m weakening, or re-
