was one of Hazel's new intimates. Of that group Bill
was always a willing member. The others he met courteously when he was
compelled to meet them; otherwise he passed them up entirely.

When he was not absorbed in a book or magazine, he spent his time in
some downtown haunt, having acquired membership in a club as a
concession to their manner of life. Once he came home with flushed
face and overbright eyes, radiating an odor of whisky. Hazel had never
seen him drink to excess. She was correspondingly shocked, and took no
pains to hide her feelings. But Bill was blandly undisturbed.

"You don't need to look so horrified," he drawled. "I won't beat you
up nor wreck the furniture. Inadvertently took a few too many, that's
all. Nothing else to do, anyhow. Your friend Brooks' Carlton Club is
as barren a place as one of your tea fights. They don't do anything
much but sit around and drink Scotch and soda, and talk about the
market. I'm drunk, and glad of it. If I were in Cariboo Meadows,
now," he confided owlishly, "I'd have some fun with the natives. You
can't turn yourself loose here. It's too blame civilized and proper.
I had half a notion to lick a Johnnie or two, just for sport, and then
I thought probably they'd have me up for assault and battery. Just
recollected our social reputation--long may she wave--in time."

"_Your_ reputation certainly won't be unblemished if any one saw you
come in in that condition," she cried, in angry mortification. "Surely
you could find something better to do than to get drunk."

"I'm going straight to bed, little person," he returned. "Scold not,
nor fret. William will be himself again ere yet the morrow's sun shall
clear the horizon. Let us avoid recrimination. The tongue is, or
would seem to be, the most vital weapon of modern society. Therefore
let us leave the trenchant blade quiescent in its scabbard. _I'd_
rather settle a dispute with my fists, or even a gun. Good night."

He made his unsteady way to their extra bedroom, and he was still there
with the door locked when Hazel returned from a card party at the
Krones'. It was the first night they had spent apart since their
marriage, and Hazel was inclined to be huffed when he looked in before
breakfast, dressed, shaved, and smiling, as if he had never had even a
bowing acquaintance with John Barleycorn. But Bill refused to take her
indignation seriously, and it died for lack of fuel.

A week or so lat