Her sister had recovered and wrote now and then; regularly, loving letters came from Frances which brought her image clearly to Mary’s mind, and Frances provided her greatest comfort. She was changing; perhaps she was growing away from childhood. She did not understand her feelings for the reserved man who was her husband. One thing she had learned: he expected complete obedience and if he did not receive this he could make her wish that she had not defied him. He never harmed her physically; what she found so difficult to endure was his coldness, the manner in which, by a short sentence, or a disdainful look, he could convey utter contempt. Should she care? Strangely enough she did. She tried not to think of him but he had a way of forcing himself into her thoughts. He was, after all, her husband; and she was at heart a romantic, longing for an ideal relationship; she wished that their marriage could have been an example to all young people, and would have been prepared to give the obedience he demanded for a little tenderness, a little outward display of affection which would have soothed her.
