Weaker than a Woman — page 165: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

156 WEAKER THAN A WOMAN. trol. She had yet to learn that Sir Owen had the obstinacy — of twenty men, and that when he had once set his mind upon anything he would carry it through. Her wishes, caprices, fancies, and desires would have about as much effect upon him as summer waves have upon a weather- beaten rock. She had a sample of this when they reached Calais on their return to England. It was not wet weather, but there had been a terrible gale, and the sea was rough. Violet was a bad sailor, and when she heard the surf beating on the shore she begged of her husband to delay their pas- sage at least twenty-four hours. She was so atraid, she said, of a rough sea. He laughed. It was all nonsense—the sea woul not hurt her. No one ever heard of an accident to the Dover and Calais boats. She allowed that, but the passage made her very ill. Would he not wait? “If you are ill, you will soon be well again; the whole passage does not occupy two hours. You must bear it as other people do.” *[ did not think you could be so unkind to me, Owen,” she said, piteously. “T am not unkind; but I warn you fairly that I have very little patience with the caprices of women. As for their other nonsense, I should never bear it. A man can- not be expected to go on honey-mooning forever. That kind of thing is all over now, and we may as well take our proper places. Mine is to be master—and I tell you quite frankly that I intend to be obeyed. Make up your mind to that, and we shall get along all right. Thwart me, and we shall not agree.” They were not very pleasant words for a bride of only a | few weeks to hear. She thought over them for some time. — ‘ Helix would never have spoken to me in that fashion,” she said to herself. ‘“ But I must obey. There is no help for it—he is supreme master.” She was very ill crossing the Channel, but Sir Owen only laughed. Sea-sickness was a sort of jest to him. He never dreamed that his young wife would resent the laughter, but she did. When they landed at Dover she would not speak to him. He might be master, she said to herself, a hundred times over, but no man should laugh at her. “You are sulking with me,” he said, laughingly. ‘“ Ah, my Lady Chevenix, you will find that a losing game! I do not think there is a person in all England—man or woman — comicbooks.com | 4 . ‘ +*. »h* . “AS