ence voiced no protest.

A movement of expectancy among the three visitors aroused Cicily from
the fit of abstraction into which she had fallen, and on which the
others had not ventured to obtrude themselves. She looked up, and then,
following the direction of her guests' gaze, turned to see her husband,
standing motionless just within the doorway of the drawing-room. He was
staring with obvious amazement at the trio of women in his wife's
company. Moreover, it was easy to judge from the expression on his face,
with the brows drawn and the mouth set sternly, that his amazement was
not builded on pleasure.... Cicily immediately rose, forgetful for the
moment of her plans for vengeance against the plotters, and went forward
with a pleased smile. She was well aware that her husband would not
regard this visitation with equanimity, but she hoped to prevent any
overt act on his part that might fatally antagonize these women, whose
good will she had struggled so hard to regain for his sake. So, she
faced him with an air of happy self-confidence, and spoke with the most
musical cadences of her voice, the while the caress of her eyes sought
to beguile the frown from his face.

"Charles, you know Mrs. McMahon, and Mrs. Schmidt, and Miss Ferguson."

"Yes, I know them," came the uncompromising answer. The grimness of his
face did not relax. He had had a day of tedious worries, and the sight
of the women here in his own home exasperated him almost beyond the
point of endurance. "An unexpected pleasure!" he added, with an
inflection that was unmistakable.

"Oh, we didn't come to see you, Mr. Hamilton," Sadie declared
resentfully, in answer to that inflection. "We came to see your wife."

"These are the officers of our new woman's club," Cicily interposed,
hastily. "Do sit down for a moment, Charles." She returned to her own
chair; but Hamilton made no movement to obey her request. Instead, he
addressed the visitors in a tone even more unpleasant than that which he
had used hitherto.

"Oh, you came to get something from Mrs. Hamilton," he sneered.

"Indeed, and we did not!" the Irishwoman retorted roughly, furious at
the insinuation. But her anger melted as she caught Cicily's pleading
eyes. There was a grateful softness in the brogue as she added: "Sure,
she's given too much already, and that's the truth."

There was no hint of relaxing in the tense severity of Hamilton's face,
as he replied, without a glance toward his wife