No More Learning

Boulte came into the house one evening, and leaned against the
door-posts of the drawing-room, chewing his moustache. Mrs. Boulte was
putting some flowers into a vase. There is a pretence of civilization
even in Kashima.

"Little woman," said Boulte, quietly, "do you care for me? "

"Immensely," said she, with a laugh. "Can you ask it? "

"But I'm serious," said Boulte. "Do you care for me? "

Mrs. Boulte dropped the flowers, and turned round quickly. "Do you want
an honest answer? "

"Ye-es, I've asked for it. "

Mrs. Boulte spoke in a low, even voice for five minutes, very
distinctly, that there might be no misunderstanding her meaning.
When
Samson broke the pillars of Gaza, he did a little thing, and one not to
be compared to the deliberate pulling down of a woman's homestead about
her own ears. There was no wise female friend to advise Mrs. Boulte,
the singularly cautious wife, to hold her hand. She struck at Boulte's
heart, because her own was sick with suspicion of Kurrell, and worn out
with the long strain of watching alone through the Rains. There was
no plan or purpose in her speaking. The sentences made themselves; and
Boulte listened leaning against the door-post with his hands in his
pockets. When all was over, and Mrs. Boulte began to breathe through her
nose before breaking out into tears, he laughed and stared straight in
front of him at the Dosehri hills.

"Is that all? " he said. "Thanks, I only wanted to know, you know. "

"What are you going to do? " said the woman, between her sobs.

"Do! Nothing. What should I do?