le to keep his temper. He flew into hardly repressed
passion, and wished himself clear of the whole household. It seemed a
most irritating drag upon all his desires and opportunities.

For all this, he still retained the semblance of leadership and control,
even though his wife was straining to revolt. Her display of temper
and open assertion of opposition were based upon nothing more than the
feeling that she could do it. She had no special evidence wherewith to
justify herself--the knowledge of something which would give her both
authority and excuse. The latter was all that was lacking, however, to
give a solid foundation to what, in a way, seemed groundless discontent.
The clear proof of one overt deed was the cold breath needed to convert
the lowering clouds of suspicion into a rain of wrath.

An inkling of untoward deeds on the part of Hurstwood had come. Doctor
Beale, the handsome resident physician of the neighbourhood, met Mrs.
Hurstwood at her own doorstep some days after Hurstwood and Carrie had
taken the drive west on Washington Boulevard. Dr. Beale, coming east on
the same drive, had recognised Hurstwood, but not before he was quite
past him. He was not so sure of Carrie--did not know whether it was
Hurstwood's wife or daughter.

"You don't speak to your friends when you meet them out driving, do
you?" he said, jocosely, to Mrs. Hurstwood.

"If I see them, I do. Where was I?"

"On Washington Boulevard." he answered, expecting her eye to light with
immediate remembrance.

She shook her head.

"Yes, out near Hoyne Avenue. You were with your husband."

"I guess you're mistaken," she answered. Then, remembering her husband's
part in the affair, she immediately fell a prey to a host of young
suspicions, of which, however, she gave no sign.

"I know I saw your husband," he went on. "I wasn't so sure about you.
Perhaps it was your daughter."

"Perhaps it was," said Mrs. Hurstwood, knowing full well that such
was not the case, as Jessica had been her companion for weeks. She had
recovered herself sufficiently to wish to know more of the details.

"Was it in the afternoon?" she asked, artfully, assuming an air of
acquaintanceship with the matter.

"Yes, about two or three."

"It must have been Jessica," said Mrs. Hurstwood, not wishing to seem to
attach any importance to the incident.

The physician had a thought or two of his own, but dismissed the matter
as worthy of no further discussion on his p