in the calendar of their
wedded lives.

Cicily's spirits sank to the lowest deeps of discouragement before this
confession of her husband's inadvertence to that which she regarded as
of vital import in the scheme of happiness.

"Yes," she answered dully, "to-night. I have the the tickets. Don't you
remember what day this is?" She strove to make her tone one of the most
casual inquiry, but the attempt was miserably futile before the urge of
her emotion.

"Why, to-day is Thursday, of course," Hamilton declared, with an
ingenuous nonchalance that was maddening to the distraught wife.

"Yes, it is Thursday," she rejoined; and now there was no mistaking the
bitter feeling that welled in the words. "It is the anniversary of our
wedding day."

Hamilton caught his unhappy bride in his arms. He was all contrition in
this first moment when his delinquency was brought home to
consciousness. He kissed her tenderly on the brow.

"By Jove, I'm awfully sorry, dear." There was genuine regret for such
culpable carelessness in his voice. "How ever did I forget it?" He drew
her closer in his embrace for a brief caress. Then, after a little, his
natural buoyancy reasserted itself, and he spoke with a mischievousness
that would, he hoped, serve to stimulate the neglected bride toward
cheerfulness. "I say," he demanded, "did you remember it all by
yourself, sweetheart, or did Aunt Emma remind you? I know she's a great
sharp on all the family dates."

The badinage seemed in the worst possible taste to the watching Mrs.
Delancy, but she forbore comment, although she saw her niece wince
visibly. Cicily's pride, however, came to her rescue, and she contrived
to restrain herself from any revelation of her hurt that could make
itself perceptible to Hamilton, who now released her from his arms.

"Oh," she said with an assumption of lightness, "Aunt Emma told me, of
course. How in the world could you suppose that I, in my busy life,
could possibly remember a little thing like the anniversary of our
wedding?"

"No, naturally you wouldn't," the husband agreed, in all seriousness.
"Gad! If you hadn't been so engrossed with that wonderful club and all
your busy society doings, you probably would have remembered, and then
you would have told me."

The young wife perceived that it would be impossible to arouse him to
any just realization of the flagrancy of his fault. Yet, she dared
venture a forlorn hope that all was not yet lost.

"Well,