Boultecameintothehouseoneevening，andleanedagainstthedoor-postsofthedrawing-room，chewinghismoustache。Mrs。
Boultewasputtingsomeflowersintoavase。ThereisapretenceofcivilisationeveninKashima。
’Littlewoman，’saidBoultequietly，’doyoucareforme？’
’Immensely，’saidshe，withalaugh。’Canyouaskit？’
’ButI’mserious，’saidBoulte。’Doyoucareforme？’