She lay awake until nearly dawn, then fell into a
deep sleep. When she woke it was noon; she felt so greatly
refreshed that her high good humor would not suffer her to be
deeply resentful against him for this second failure. "No matter,"
reflected she. "He might have suspected me if I'd done anything so
revolutionary as appear at breakfast. I'll make my beginning at
lunch."
She was now striving, with some success, to think of him as a
tyrant whom she, luckless martyr, must cajole. "I'm going the way
of all the married women," thought she. "They soon find there's no
honorable way to get their rights from their masters, find they
simply have to degrade themselves." Yes, he was forcing her to
degrade herself, to simulate affection when the reverse was in her
heart. Well, she would make him pay dearly for it--some day.
Meanwhile she must gain her point. "If I don't, I'd better not
have married. To be Mrs. is something, but not much if I'm the
creature of his whims."
She put off lunch nearly an hour; but he did not come, did not
reappear until dinner was waiting. "I've been over to town," he
explained, "doing a lot of telegraphing that was necessary.
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