He had never counted on making money, but now he was obliged to speculate on his work, and this brought him face to face with his own practical limitations. It was a standing grievance that Teresa was not economical. But Teresa, though she honestly tried, could not be—at least not more than a few days at a time. Then she forgot about it. She was not extravagant, but the daily worry of overseeing cheating tradesmen and servants, as well as watching the baby and the nurse, and seeing that Basil's clothes were in repair, and his meals on time, was sure to overpass at some point the limits of her domestic capacity.
They were gayer, too, this winter than ever. Teresa, after her year of the baby, had a craving for people, a quite new delight in going out, the more so since she was more beautiful and more admired. And gaiety meant expense—clothes, dinners, cabs—and less work. It meant, also, more or less emotional disturbance. Basil's theory that he was not of a jealous temperament had had a good test, and had been found not to hold water.
Among the people that they saw most of, domestic happiness was regarded as an amusing or pathetic myth, as you happened to take it. It was a mirage, and the traveller in the desert, if he could not help pursuing it, always recognised his mistake. He did not reach the mirage; but he
