she got him to do a
stroke of work for her that took up at least ten minutes neither of us
could spare. And she looked like a thundercloud every time I caught a
glimpse of her face. Caesar!--think of having to live with that sort of
person. No wonder Carey looks old before his time."

"It's certainly unfortunate. But I'm not an exception, Tony. There are
plenty of women who know when to keep out of the way."

"Well, then, they're erratic on some other line, that's all. You're
absolutely the only thoroughly sweet and sane woman I know."

"My dear boy! Remember how snappish I was just this evening."

"I was grouchy enough to match it. I tell you, Julie--the women who don't
talk you to death on every subject, important or trivial, bore you with
idiotic questions or impertinence about your affairs. How do I know so
much about 'em? My dear, dozens of them come into the office every day,
and Mr. Henderson has acquired a habit lately of turning them all over to
me. I earn a double salary every hour I spend that way--wish I could put
in a demand for it. Speaking of salaries, dear"--Anthony suddenly sat
up--"I've no right to be grouchy, for I'm promised another advance next
month."

"Splendid!" She put out her hand, and the two shook hands vigorously
again, like the pair of comrades they were.

"Juliet," said her husband, watching her face closely. "It's been a happy
five years, hasn't it?"

"A happy five years, Tony."

"Do you mean it?" He smiled at her. "You've never been sorry?" Then he got
to his feet and held out his hand again to help her up. "The mortal combat
we engaged in gave you a magnificent colour," he commented, and passed
affectionate fingers across the smooth cheek near his shoulder.
"Sweetheart----" he drew her into his arms--"I may fence with you once in
a while with sharp words for weapons, but--do you know how I love you?"

"I wonder why?"

"It's strange, isn't it?--after all these years. To be really up-to-date,
we should long since have become interested each in some other----"

A hand came gently but effectually upon his mouth. He kissed the hand.
"No, I won't say it. It's a cynical philosophy, and I'll not take its
language on my lips--not with my wife in my arms, giving the lie to that
sort of thing. Julie, we're not sentimentalists because we still
care----"

"Who thinks we are?"

"Plenty of envious skeptics, I'll wager. I see it in their green-eyed
glances. They can't believe it's genu