"It's all a question of what one expects," she said with a shrug.
"My wife won't mind me touching her bread?" I asked anxiously.
"Oh, no, she won't mind that. You're not like that. Oh, no, it won't be in that way."
"I declare I'm much comforted."
"Indeed you needn't fear that. In some things all women are alike. You needn't fear anything of that sort. No woman could feel that about you."
"I grow happier every moment. I shouldn't have liked Elsa to cut herself another slice."
Coralie laughed, sniffed the roses I had brought, and laughed again, as she said:
"In fact I do. I remember it now. I didn't mean to be rude ; it came natural to do it; as if the piece had fallen on the floor, you know."
Evidently Struboff had analyzed his wife's feelings very correctly. I doubted both the use and the possibility of enlightening her as to his. Kisses were not in the bargain, she would say. After all, the desire for affection was something of an incongruity in Struboff, an alien weed trespassing on the ground meant for music and for money. I could hardly blame her for refusing to foster the intruder. I felt that I should be highly unjust if, later on, I laid any blame on Elsa for not satisfying a desire for affection should I chance to feel such a thing. And as to the bread Coralie had quite reassured me. I looked at her. She was smiling in quiet amusement. Evidently her fancy was tickled by the matter of the bread.
"You notice a thing like that," she said. "But he doesn't. Imagine his noticing it!"
"I can imagine it very well."
