II
Nellie came into the dining-room two minutes after her husband. As
Edward Henry had laboriously counted these two minutes almost second
by second on the dining-room clock, he was very tired of waiting. His
secret annoyance was increased by the fact that Nellie took off her
white apron in the doorway and flung it hurriedly on to the table-tray
which, during the progress of meals, was established outside the
dining-room door. He did not actually witness this operation of
undressing, because Nellie was screened by the half-closed door;
but he was entirely aware of it. He disliked it, and he had always
disliked it. When Nellie was at work, either as a mother or as
the owner of certain fine silver ornaments, he rather enjoyed the
wonderful white apron, for it suited her temperament; but as the head
of a household with six thousand pounds a year at its disposal, he
objected to any hint of the thing at meals. And to-night he objected
to it altogether. Who could guess from the homeliness of their family
life that he was in a position to spend a hundred pounds a week and
still have enough income left over to pay the salary of a town clerk
or so? Nobody could guess; and he felt that people ought to be able
to guess. When he was young he would have esteemed an income of
six thousand pounds a year as necessarily implicating feudal state,
valets, castles, yachts, family solicitors, racing-stables, county
society, dinner-calls and a drawling London accent.
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