a bit surprised if he ends by getting that reward! One can see he just loves the work of tracking people down."
"There’s nothing to be proud of in such a job," said his wife listlessly.
"He’ll have something to be proud of if he catches The Avenger!" cried Bunting. He was too keen about this affair to be put off by Ellen’s contradictory remarks. "You just notice that bit about the rubber soles. Now, no one’s thought o’ that. I’ll just tell Chandler—he don’t seem to me to be half awake, that young man don’t."
"He’s quite wide awake enough without you saying things to him! How about those eggs, Bunting? I feel quite ready for my breakfast even if you don’t"
Mrs. Bunting now spoke in what her husband sometimes secretly described to himself as "Ellen’s snarling voice."
He turned away and left the room, feeling oddly troubled. There was something queer about her, and he couldn’t make it out. He didn’t mind it when she spoke sharply and nastily to him. He was used to that. But now she was so up and down; so different from what she used to be! In old days she had always been the same, but now a man never knew where to have her.
And as he went downstairs he pondered uneasily over his wife’s changed ways and manner.
Take the question of his easy chair. A very small matter, no doubt, but he had never known Ellen sit in that chair—no, not even once, for a minute, since it had been purchased by her as a present for him.
They had been so happy, so happy, and so—so restful,
