nge to you."

It must be remembered that Hamilton, although usually intelligent, had a
clear conscience and no suspicion whatsoever as to any culpability on
his part in his relations with his wife: thus it was that now he was
wholly impervious to the sarcasm of her reference, which he answered
with the utmost seriousness.

"My dear, I saw you this morning, last night--oh, heaps of times, every
day."

"Oh, your physical eyes have seen; but your mind, your heart, your
soul--the true you--hasn't seen me for I don't know how long."

This cryptic explanation was too subtle for Hamilton to grasp while yet
his brain was fogged by the intricacies of his business affairs. He
gazed on his wife in puzzled fashion for a few seconds, then abandoned
the problem as one altogether beyond his solving. To clear up a vague
suspicion that this might be some new astonishing display of a woman's
indirect wiles, he put a question:

"My dear, do you want a new automobile, or a doctor?"

"Neither!" came the crisp reply; and for once the musical voice was
almost harsh, "I want a husband!"

"Good Lord! Another?" Hamilton was pained and scandalized, as, indeed,
was but natural before a confession so indecorous seemingly and so
unflattering to himself.

"I don't want the one I have now," Cicily affirmed, with great emphasis.
She rather enjoyed the manner in which the man shrank under her
declaration. But he said nothing as she paused: he was momentarily too
dumfounded for speech, "I want my first one back," Cicily concluded.

Hamilton gaped at his wife, powerless to do aught beyond grope in mental
blackness for some ray of understanding as to this horrible revelation
made by the woman he loved.

"You--you want your first one back!" he repeated stupidly, at last. Of a
sudden, a gust of fury shook him. "God!" he cried savagely. "And I
thought I knew that girl!"

Cicily rested unperturbed before the outbreak. She was absorbed in her
own torment, with no sentiment to spare for the temporary anguish she
was inflicting on her husband, which, in her opinion, he richly
deserved.

"You did know me once," she answered, coldly. "That was before you
changed toward me."

The injustice of this charge, as he deemed it, was beyond Hamilton's
powers of endurance. He sprung from his chair, and stood glowering down
on Cicily, who bore the stern accusation of his eyes without flinching.
The pallor of her face was a little more pronounced than usual, l