we have had a few days anywhere away, even if nothing in particular has gone wrong——”
Sir Richmond stopped short.
“When they go wrong it is generally her fault,” the doctor sounded.
“Almost always.”
“But if they don’t?” said the psychiatrist.
“It is difficult to describe.... The essential incompatibility of the whole thing comes out.”
The doctor maintained his expression of intelligent interest.
“She wants to go on with her work. She is able to work anywhere. All she wants is just cardboard and ink. My mind on the other hand turns back to the Fuel Commission....”
“Then any little thing makes trouble.”
“Any little thing makes trouble. And we always drift round to the same discussion; whether we ought really to go on together.”
“It is you begin that?”
“Yes, I start that. You see she is perfectly contented when I am about. She is as fond of me as I am of her.”
“Fonder perhaps.”
“I don’t know. But she is—adhesive. Emotionally adhesive. All she wants to do is just to settle down when I am there and go on with her work. But then, you see, there is my work.”
“Exactly.... After all it seems to me that
