choly
anniversary occasion, made mention of the fact that she had cautiously
spoken to Charles in reference to his neglect of the young wife. She
explained that his manner of reply convinced her that, in reality, the
man was merely a bit too deeply occupied for the moment, and that, when
the temporary pressure had passed, everything would again be idyllic.
Mrs. Delancy's motive in telling her niece of the interview was to
convince this depressed person that the matter was, after all, of only
trifling importance. In this, however, she failed signally. Cicily
regarded the incident as yet another evidence of a developing situation
that must be checked quickly, or never. But she took advantage of the
circumstances to introduce the topic with Hamilton. To her, the
conversation was momentous, although neither by word nor by manner did
she let her husband suspect that the discussion was aught beyond the
casual.

As usual now, Hamilton, on his return at night from the office, had shut
himself in the library, and was busily poring over a bundle of papers,
when there came a timid knock at the door. In response to his call,
Cicily entered. The young man greeted his wife politely enough, and even
called her "darling" in a meaningless tone of voice; but the frown did
not relax, and constantly his eyes wandered to the bundle of documents.
Cicily, however, was not to be daunted, for his manner was no worse than
she had expected. She crossed to a chair that faced his, and seated
herself. When, finally, she spoke, it was with an air of tender
solicitude, and the smile on her scarlet lips was gently maternal.

"You are working too hard, dear," she remonstrated. "You must relax a
little when you are away from the office, or you'll have--oh, brain-fag,
or nervous prostration, or some such dreadful thing."

"Well, I'll try to put the office out of my head for a little while,"
was the obedient answer, which gave the woman the chance she desired.

"But you must do it for your own sake--not mine, you know. You see, Aunt
Emma told me that she had been lecturing you a bit--said you ought to
pay me more attention, and all that sort of thing."

"Yes, and so I shall; but I'm pressed to death just now--After a bit--"

"You are so different!" Cicily said, almost timidly, as his voice
trailed into silence. "Sometimes, I think--I fear--" Her voice, in turn,
died.

For the moment, the husband was moved to a sudden tenderness. He spoke
softly, ea