t I subscribe five thousand, and to give her some advice about
the organization, and to warn her that her inexperience in such a
complicated and responsible matter might lead to most lamentable
results. In short, I wanted to see my wife, and while I thought of
various pretexts for going to her, I had a firm conviction in my heart
that I should do so.

It was still light when I went in to her, and the lamps had not yet been
lighted. She was sitting in her study, which led from the drawing-room
to her bedroom, and, bending low over the table, was writing something
quickly. Seeing me, she started, got up from the table, and remained
standing in an attitude such as to screen her papers from me.

"I beg your pardon, I have only come for a minute," I said, and, I don't
know why, I was overcome with embarrassment. "I have learnt by chance
that you are organizing relief for the famine, Natalie."

"Yes, I am. But that's my business," she answered.

"Yes, it is your business," I said softly. "I am glad of it, for it just
fits in with my intentions. I beg your permission to take part in it."

"Forgive me, I cannot let you do it," she said in response, and looked
away.

"Why not, Natalie?" I said quietly. "Why not? I, too, am well fed and I,
too, want to help the hungry."

"I don't know what it has to do with you," she said with a contemptuous
smile, shrugging her shoulders. "Nobody asks you."

"Nobody asks you, either, and yet you have got up a regular committee in
_my_ house," I said.

"I am asked, but you can have my word for it no one will ever ask you.
Go and help where you are not known."

"For God's sake, don't talk to me in that tone." I tried to be mild, and
besought myself most earnestly not to lose my temper. For the first few
minutes I felt glad to be with my wife. I felt an atmosphere of youth,
of home, of feminine softness, of the most refined elegance--exactly
what was lacking on my floor and in my life altogether. My wife was
wearing a pink flannel dressing-gown; it made her look much younger,
and gave a softness to her rapid and sometimes abrupt movements. Her
beautiful dark hair, the mere sight of which at one time stirred me to
passion, had from sitting so long with her head bent c ome loose from
the comb and was untidy, but, to my eyes, that only made it look more
rich and luxuriant. All this, though is banal to the point of vulgarity.
Before me stood an ordinary woman, perhaps neither beautiful nor