ever!" exclaimed his wife, in a startled tone. "Surely, she
cannot be as bad as that!"

"Woman, what have you done?" the man demanded, in a hoarse whisper.
"How have you dared to plot and carry out the dastardly deed that you
have perpetrated this night?"

Anna Goddard's eyes began to blaze defiance.

"That is neither the tone nor the manner you should employ in
addressing me, Gerald, as you very well know," she retorted, with
colorless lips.

"Have done with your tragic airs, madam," he cried, laying a heavy
hand upon her arm. "I have had enough of them. I ask you again, how
have you dared to commit this crime?"

"Crime?" she repeated, with a start, but flashing him a glance that
made him wince as she shook herself free from his grasp. "You use a
harsh term, Gerald; but if you desire a reason for what has occurred
to-night, I can give you two."

"Name them," her companion curtly demanded.

"First and foremost, then--to protect myself."

"To protect yourself--from what?"

"From treachery and desertion."

"Anna!"

A bitter sneer curled the beautiful woman's lips.

"You know how to do it very well, Gerald," she tauntingly returned.
"That air of injured innocence is vastly becoming to you, and would be
very effective, if I did not know you so well; but it has disarmed me
for the last time. Pray never assume it again, for you will never
blind me by it in the future."

"Explain yourself, Anna. I fail to understand you."

"Very well; I will do so in a very few words; I was a witness of your
interview with the girl just after dinner to-night."

"You?" ejaculated the man, flushing hotly, and looking considerably
crestfallen. "Well, what of it?" he added, defiantly, the next moment.

"What of it, indeed? Do you imagine a wife is going to stand quietly
by and see her husband make love to her companion?"

"What nonsense you are talking, Anna! I went in search of one of the
housemaids to button my gloves for me, met Miss Allen instead, and she
was kind enough to oblige me."

"Bah! Gerald, I was too near you at the time to swallow such a very
lame vindication," vulgarly sneered his wife. "You were making love to
her, I tell you--you were telling her something which you had no
business to reveal, and I swore then that her fate should be sealed
this very night."

Gerald Goddard realized that there was no use arguing with his wife in
that mood, while he also felt that his case was rather weak, and so he
shifte