and courage to act on what she saw. The neighbourhood, no slower than the average community to throw down its idol from his pedestal, once the feet of clay stood revealed, expressed itself as more than a little aghast at Avis’s own prospects. But that was of no moment whatever to Avis; once her mind was made up, she was of the kind that would “stand to be shot.” So she made Martin marry her with the least possible delay; and, contrary to all precedent in such cases, she saved him. The fact was, that there was as yet no actual vicious craving in the lad; nothing worse than weakness and a strain of lavish self-indulgence, which is bad enough, Heaven knows, but yet is shared by many a man who never actually “goes wrong.” In Martin’s case, it was that very characteristic and charming bonhomie of his that had unhappily played the part of traitor in the garrison; and Avis took him just in time, before tendency had slidden easily and fatally over the brink into habit.
She made him an admirable wife. The firmness of her nature was a staff to his; her courage shamed him, her generosity set his eagerly afire. His responsiveness helped him well with Avis; his ardour and facile-heartedness could be exercised in ever-fresh worship of the wife who had saved him, and his imaginativeness was able to invest her with the glamorous quality she lacked. For Avis, from the crown of her head to the sole of her foot, was purely matter-of-fact; she cared little for beauty, nothing at all for Art. Paint, especially, she considered to be much more usefully and properly bestowed upon gates and weather-boarding
