—Suddenly you hear a step
During a holiday in bed one never thinks, of course, of analysing his actions. If you had done so in this instance, you would have seen that you pretended sleep because you had got to an exciting passage. You love your wife, but, wife or no wife, you must see how the passage ends.
Possibly the little scene plays differently, as thus:
“John, are you feeling any easier now?”
No answer.
“Are you asleep?”
No answer.
“What a pity! I don’t want to waken him, and yet the fowl will be spoilt.”
“Is that you back, Marion?”
“Yes, dear; I thought you were asleep.”
“No, only thinking.”
“You think too much, dear. I have cooked a chicken for you.”
“I have no appetite.”
“I’m so sorry, but I can give it to the children.”
“Oh, as it’s cooked, you may as well bring it up.”
You are lying there with your eyes shut In that case the reason of your change of action is obvious. But why do you not let your wife know that you have been reading? This is another matter that you never reason about. Perhaps it is because of your craving for sympathy, and you fear that if you were seen enjoying a novel the sympathy would go. Or perhaps it is that a holiday in bed is never perfect without a secret. Monotony must be guarded against, and so long as you keep the book to yourself your holiday in bed is a healthy excitement. A stolen book (as we may call it) is like stolen fruit,
