for a good talk with him, I've at last understood even more. We weren't, you see, before," she obligingly added, "in his confidence."
"No, indeed," her husband opined, "we could scarcely be said to be. But now we are, and it makes the difference?"
"It makes the difference to me," Jane nobly contented herself with claiming. "If I've been remiss, however," she showed herself prepared to pursue, "I must make it up. And doubtless I have been."
"'Remiss,'" he stared, "when you're in full enjoyment of my assent to our making such sacrifices for her?"
She gave it, in her superior way, a moment's thought. "I don't mean remiss in act; no, that, thank goodness, we haven't been. But remiss in feeling," she quite unbearably discriminated.
"Ah, that, par exemple," he protested, "I deny that I've been for a moment!"
"No"—and she fairly mused at him; "you seemed to have all sorts of ideas; while I," she conceded, "had only one, which, so far as it went, was good. But it didn't go far enough."
He watched her a moment. "I doubtless don't know what idea you mean," he smiled, "but how far does it go now?"
She hadn't, with her preoccupied eyes on him, so much as noticed the ironic ring of it. "Well, you'll see for yourself. I mustn't abandon him."
