"Well," she repeated, "one never knows."
"Because if you do, I'll tell you something."
"What?" Vera demanded.
At this juncture Stephen committed an error of tactics. He might have
let her continue in the fear of his death, and thus remained on velvet
(subject to occasional outbreaks) for the rest of his life. But he gave
himself utterly away.
"She told _me_ I should live till I was ninety," said he. "So you can't
be a widow for quite half a century, and you'll be eighty yourself
then."
IV
Within twenty-four hours she was at him about the balcony.
"The summer will be lovely," she said, in reply to his argument about
climate.
"Rubbish," she said, in reply to his argument about safety.
"Who cares for your old breakfast-room?" she said, in reply to his
argument about darkness at breakfast.
"We will have trees planted on that side--big elms," she said, in reply
to his argument about the smoke of the Five Towns spoiling the view.
Whereupon Stephen definitely and clearly enunciated that he should not
build a balcony.
"Oh, but you must!" she protested.
"A balcony is quite impossible," said Stephen, with his firmest
masculinity.
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