"See here!" he shot at her. "What's the matter with you lately?"
He saw that he had startled her and that she made an effort to
collect her wandering thoughts. "You're about as warm and wifely
as a stone idol."
"Am I any different to what I have always been?"
"Humph! You haven't been exactly sympathetic of late. Here I come
home sick, and you treat me like one of the help. Don't you think
I have feelings? Jove! I'm lonesome."
Alaire regarded him speculatively, then shook her head as if in
answer to some thought.
In an obvious and somewhat too mellow effort to be friendly, Ed
continued: "Don't let's go on like this, Alaire. You blame me for
going away so much, but, good Lord! when I'm home I feel like an
interloper. You treat me like a cow-thief."
"I'm sorry. I've tried to be everything I should. I'm the
interloper."
"Nonsense! If we only got along together as well as we seem to
from the outside it wouldn't be bad at all. But you're too severe.
You seem to think a man should be perfect. Well, none of us are,
and I'm no worse than the majority. Why, I know lots of fellows
who forget themselves and do things they shouldn't, but they don't
mean anything by it.
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