"Not a lady--ha!" Jim ejaculated. "She was a Cowdry."

Julia leaned back in her chair, and opened a fat letter from Sally
Borroughs in Europe, that had come in her morning's mail.

"Ask her by all means to dinner," she said calmly. "Only don't expect me
to admire her and approve of her, Jim, for I won't do it; I know too
much about her!"

"It's just possible Mrs. Pope isn't waiting for your admiration and
approval, my dear," Jim said, nettled "But I doubt, whatever she knew of
you, if she would speak so unkindly about _you_!"

Julia turned as scarlet as if a whip had fallen across her face. She
stared at him for a moment with fixed, horrified eyes, then crushed her
letter together with a spasmodic gesture of the hands, and let it fall
as she went blindly toward the bedroom door. Jim sat staring after her,
puzzled at first, then with the red blood surging into his face. He
dropped his cigarette and his newspaper, and for perhaps three minutes
there was no sound in the apartment but the coffee bubbling in the
percolator, and the occasional clank of the radiator.

Then Jim jumped up suddenly and flung open the door of the bedroom.
Julia was sitting at her dressing-table, one elbow resting upon it, and
her head dropped on her hand. She raised heavy eyes and looked at him.

"Don't be a fool, Ju," Jim said, solicitous and impatient. "You know I
didn't mean anything by that. I wouldn't be such a cad. You know I
wouldn't say a thing like that--I couldn't. Come on back and finish your
coffee."

But he did not kiss her; he did not put his arm about her; and Julia
felt curiously weary and cold as she came slowly back to her place. Jim
immediately lighted a fresh cigarette, and began to rattle away somewhat
nervously of his plans for the day. He was going over to the Oakland
Hospital to look at his man with the spine--better not try to meet for
lunch. But how about that Pacific Avenue house? If Julia took the motor
and stopped at the agent's for the key, he would meet her there at
four--how about it?

Agreed. Gosh! It was nearly ten o'clock, and Jim had to get out to the
Children's Hospital before he went to Oakland. Julia had a quick kiss,
and was advised to take good care of herself. Then Jim was gone, and she
could fling her arm across the table and sob as if her heart would
break.

Julia cried for a long time. Then she stopped resolutely, and spent a
long half hour in serious thought, her fingers absently tracing the