his secretary, Alistair Marston.
"So, my friend." Edward took a sip of brandy and eyed Trevor thoughtfully. "After all the excitement of Egypt, won't England seem a bit tame?"
"I'll find ways to amuse myself, I assure you."
"I should imagine. You've always liked adventure. I remember all the scrapes you managed to get me into when we were at school."
"I refuse to take the blame. You took as much pleasure in our escapades as I did."
"I must admit you are right." Edward laughed. "I remember one incident in particular. The night we snuck into your brother's room at Cambridge and pasted all the pages of his textbooks together. God, he was furious."
Trevor smiled at the memory. "Geoffrey never did have a sense of humor."
"Yes, well, it was a good thing old Walston didn't believe his accusation that we were responsible."
"He couldn't prove anything, so of course the headmaster didn't believe him."
"And you had already arranged a suitable alibi for us, as I recall. You are too clever by half." He sighed pleasurably. "Those were halcyon days indeed."
Trevor lifted his glass. "Who says they are over? I'm sure we could think up some wild escapades to get into while I'm here."
But Edward shook his head. "No, no. Those days are over for me."
"You've been married less than a year. Has it changed you so much?"
"I doubt Cornelia would look favorably upon any escapades you and I would be likely to engage in. The Egyptian artifacts business is bad enough, but coming home drunk at four o'clock in the morning would displease Cornelia immensely." He took a swallow of brandy and added, "And I can tell you it is never wise to incur your wife's displeasure."
"True enough. You might be deprived of matrimony's only benefit."
The cynicism of that comment startled Edward. "That isn't it at all," he protested. "You know that if I wanted other feminine companionship I could easily find it. But I don't want it."
"And you never look at another woman," Trevor answered with gravity, but there was a hint of mockery in his voice.
Edward refused to be perturbed by it. "Of course I look," he said, laughing. "But that is all. My wife is the only woman I truly want."
"Really, Edward! You talk as if you're actually in love with your own wife."
"I am."
Trevor studied his friend's face and knew he was in earnest. He felt a stab of pity for him. "What a wretched state of affairs. It's a situation in which you can never win."
"Marriage is not a game to be won or lost, Trevor. There will always be vexation and grief, of course, but marriage can also make a man quite happy." He shook his head sadly. "You've always had the worst possible opinion of marriage. I cannot help but wonder why."
"Is there any reason why I should have a good opinion of it?" he countered in a hard voice. "Among our mutual acquaintance, I can think of no one who would recommend the married state as a way to make one happy."
"I can recommend it highly. It has given me much joy."
Trevor could have pointed out that Edward had been married so short a time that the novelty had not yet worn off. But he merely shrugged. "If you say so."
"God, Trevor, you needn't sound as if marriage is a fate worse than death. It isn't, you know. You must marry, and you may find it surprisingly pleasant. Believe me when I say it could make a different man of you."
"Why should I wish to be a different man? I am quite content being the man that I am, and I see no reason why I should want to change." He took a swallow of brandy and added, "It is true that duty will eventually force me to marry, but it will not change either my lifestyle or my temperament, I assure you. And it will certainly not make me any less of a realist."
Edward started to speak, obviously intending to debate the point, but Henry and his secretary entered the room at that moment, and he let the subject drop. Trevor was heartily glad of it, for he thought the idea of being transformed by love was unworthy of discussion between
"So, my friend." Edward took a sip of brandy and eyed Trevor thoughtfully. "After all the excitement of Egypt, won't England seem a bit tame?"
"I'll find ways to amuse myself, I assure you."
"I should imagine. You've always liked adventure. I remember all the scrapes you managed to get me into when we were at school."
"I refuse to take the blame. You took as much pleasure in our escapades as I did."
"I must admit you are right." Edward laughed. "I remember one incident in particular. The night we snuck into your brother's room at Cambridge and pasted all the pages of his textbooks together. God, he was furious."
Trevor smiled at the memory. "Geoffrey never did have a sense of humor."
"Yes, well, it was a good thing old Walston didn't believe his accusation that we were responsible."
"He couldn't prove anything, so of course the headmaster didn't believe him."
"And you had already arranged a suitable alibi for us, as I recall. You are too clever by half." He sighed pleasurably. "Those were halcyon days indeed."
Trevor lifted his glass. "Who says they are over? I'm sure we could think up some wild escapades to get into while I'm here."
But Edward shook his head. "No, no. Those days are over for me."
"You've been married less than a year. Has it changed you so much?"
"I doubt Cornelia would look favorably upon any escapades you and I would be likely to engage in. The Egyptian artifacts business is bad enough, but coming home drunk at four o'clock in the morning would displease Cornelia immensely." He took a swallow of brandy and added, "And I can tell you it is never wise to incur your wife's displeasure."
"True enough. You might be deprived of matrimony's only benefit."
The cynicism of that comment startled Edward. "That isn't it at all," he protested. "You know that if I wanted other feminine companionship I could easily find it. But I don't want it."
"And you never look at another woman," Trevor answered with gravity, but there was a hint of mockery in his voice.
Edward refused to be perturbed by it. "Of course I look," he said, laughing. "But that is all. My wife is the only woman I truly want."
"Really, Edward! You talk as if you're actually in love with your own wife."
"I am."
Trevor studied his friend's face and knew he was in earnest. He felt a stab of pity for him. "What a wretched state of affairs. It's a situation in which you can never win."
"Marriage is not a game to be won or lost, Trevor. There will always be vexation and grief, of course, but marriage can also make a man quite happy." He shook his head sadly. "You've always had the worst possible opinion of marriage. I cannot help but wonder why."
"Is there any reason why I should have a good opinion of it?" he countered in a hard voice. "Among our mutual acquaintance, I can think of no one who would recommend the married state as a way to make one happy."
"I can recommend it highly. It has given me much joy."
Trevor could have pointed out that Edward had been married so short a time that the novelty had not yet worn off. But he merely shrugged. "If you say so."
"God, Trevor, you needn't sound as if marriage is a fate worse than death. It isn't, you know. You must marry, and you may find it surprisingly pleasant. Believe me when I say it could make a different man of you."
"Why should I wish to be a different man? I am quite content being the man that I am, and I see no reason why I should want to change." He took a swallow of brandy and added, "It is true that duty will eventually force me to marry, but it will not change either my lifestyle or my temperament, I assure you. And it will certainly not make me any less of a realist."
Edward started to speak, obviously intending to debate the point, but Henry and his secretary entered the room at that moment, and he let the subject drop. Trevor was heartily glad of it, for he thought the idea of being transformed by love was unworthy of discussion between
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