"Ah!" shrieked Alfred, as though he had at last run his victim to earth.

She retreated with her fingers crossed. "I only said suppose," she
reminded him quickly. Then she continued in a tone meant to draw from
him his heart's most secret confidence. "Didn't you ever eat lunch with
any woman but me?"

"Never!" answered Alfred firmly.

There was an unmistakable expression of pleasure on Zoie's small face,
but she forced back the smile that was trying to creep round her lips,
and sidled toward Alfred, with eyes properly downcast. "Then I'm very
sorry I did it," she said solemnly, "and I'll never do it again."

"So!" cried Alfred with renewed indignation. "You admit it?"

"Just to please you, dear," explained Zoie sweetly, as though she were
doing him the greatest possible favour.

"To please me?" gasped Alfred. "Do you suppose it pleases me to know
that you are carrying on the moment my back is turned, making a fool of
me to my friends?"

"Your friends?" cried Zoie with a sneer. This time it was her turn to be
angry. "So! It's your FRIENDS that are worrying you!" In her excitement
she tossed Alfred's now damaged hat into the chair just behind her. He
was far too overwrought to see it. "_I_ haven't done you any harm," she
continued wildly. "It's only what you think your friends think."

"You haven't done me any harm?" repeated Alfred, in her same tragic key,
"Oh no! Oh no! You've only cheated me out of everything I expected to
get out of life! That's all!"

Zoie came to a full stop and waited for him to enumerate the various
treasures that he had lost by marrying her. He did so.

"Before we were married," he continued, "you pretended to adore
children. You started your humbugging the first day I met you. I refer
to little Willie Peck."

A hysterical giggle very nearly betrayed her. Alfred continued:

"I was fool enough to let you know that I admire women who like
children. From that day until the hour that I led you to the altar,
you'd fondle the ugliest little brats that we met in the street, but the
moment you GOT me----"

"Alfred!" gasped Zoie. This was really going too far.

"Yes, I repeat it!" shouted Alfred, pounding the table with his fist for
emphasis. "The moment you GOT me, you declared that all children were
horrid little insects, and that someone ought to sprinkle bug-powder on
them."

"Oh!" protested Zoie, shocked less by Alfred's interpretation of her
sentiments, than by the vulgarity with