exclaimed.

"'I'm not so sure of that,' said Bill, sadly. 'Sometimes I'm
almost inclined to think she does.'

"'Well, that's one direction in which I should advise strict
economy,' said I. 'You can multiply the dogs an' the horses, an'
the servants an' the motor-cars, but in the matter o' wives an'
husbands we ought to stick to the simple life. Don't let her go to
competing with those Fifth Avenue ladies.'

"'I don't know what's the matter,' Bill went on. 'She's had
everything that her heart could wish. But, of course, she has had
only one husband, and most of her friends have had two or three.
They've outmarried her. It may be that, secretly, she's just a
little annoyed about that. Many of her old friends are consumed
with envy; their bones are rotten with it. They smile upon her;
they accept her hospitality; they declare their love, and they long
for her downfall. Now, my wife has a certain pride and joy in all
this, but, naturally, it breeds a sense of loneliness--the bitter
loneliness that one may find only in a crowd. She turns more and
more to me, and, between ourselves, she seems to have made up her
mind that I don't love her, and I can't convince her that I do.'

"'Well, Bill, I should guess that you have always been fond of your
wife--and--true to her.'

"'And you are right,' said Bill. 'I've loved with all my heart and
with a conscience. It's my only pride, for, of course, I might
have been gay. In society I enjoy a reputation for firmness. It
is no idle boast.'

"'Well, Bill, you can't do anything more for her in the matter of
food, raiment, beasts, or birds, an' as to jewelry she carries a
pretty heavy stock. I often feel the need of smoked glasses when I
look at her. You'll have to make up your mind as to whether she
needs more or less. I'll study the situation myself. It may be
that I can suggest something by-and-by--just as a matter of
friendship.'

"'Your common sense may discern what is needed,' said Bill. 'I
wish you'd come at least once a week to dinner. My wife would be
delighted, to have you, Soc. You are one of the few men who
interest her.'

"She was a pretty woman, distinguished for a look of weariness and
a mortal fear of fat. She had done nothing so hard an' so long,
that, to her, nothing was all there was in the world--save fat.
She was so busy about it that she couldn't sit still an' rest. She
wandered from one chair to another, smokin' a cigarette, an' no