e they reached Floral Heights there was nothing more to say, and
already he felt the force of her stolidity, wondered whether he could
remain a good husband and still sneak out of the house this evening for
half an hour with the Bunch. When he had housed the car he blundered
upstairs, into the familiar talcum-scented warmth of her presence,
blaring, "Help you unpack your bag?"

"No, I can do it."

Slowly she turned, holding up a small box, and slowly she said, "I
brought you a present, just a new cigar-case. I don't know if you'd care
to have it--"

She was the lonely girl, the brown appealing Myra Thompson, whom he had
married, and he almost wept for pity as he kissed her and besought,
"Oh, honey, honey, CARE to have it? Of course I do! I'm awful proud you
brought it to me. And I needed a new case badly."

He wondered how he would get rid of the case he had bought the week
before.

"And you really are glad to see me back?"

"Why, you poor kiddy, what you been worrying about?"

"Well, you didn't seem to miss me very much."

By the time he had finished his stint of lying they were firmly bound
again. By ten that evening it seemed improbable that she had ever
been away. There was but one difference: the problem of remaining a
respectable husband, a Floral Heights husband, yet seeing Tanis and
the Bunch with frequency. He had promised to telephone to Tanis that
evening, and now it was melodramatically impossible. He prowled about
the telephone, impulsively thrusting out a hand to lift the receiver,
but never quite daring to risk it. Nor could he find a reason
for slipping down to the drug store on Smith Street, with its
telephone-booth. He was laden with responsibility till he threw it off
with the speculation: "Why the deuce should I fret so about not being
able to 'phone Tanis? She can get along without me. I don't owe her
anything. She's a fine girl, but I've given her just as much as she has
me. . . . Oh, damn these women and the way they get you all tied up in
complications!"

II

For a week he was attentive to his wife, took her to the theater, to
dinner at the Littlefields'; then the old weary dodging and shifting
began and at least two evenings a week he spent with the Bunch. He still
made pretense of going to the Elks and to committee-meetings but less
and less did he trouble to have his excuses interesting, less and less
did she affect to believe them. He was certain that she knew he was
associati