there he stayed, continually
whispering ugly doubts and queries concerning the "trouble" that Mrs.
Gorman was making over her sister's intimate studio association with
my husband.

My constant brooding affected my spirits. I found myself growing
irritable. The next day after Dicky and I had seen Miss Draper and her
attendant cavalier on the road to Marvin harbor, Dicky made a casual
reference at the table to the fact that she had returned to the studio
and her work as his secretary and model.

"She said she called up the studio when she got in, and again
yesterday morning, but I was not in," he said. I realized that the
girl had cleverly soothed his resentment at her failure to notify him
that she had returned from her trip.

Whether it was the result of my own irritability or not I do not know,
but Dicky seemed to grow more indifferent and absent-minded each day.
He was not irritable with me, he simply had the air of a man absorbed
in some pursuit and indifferent to everything else.

Grace Draper's attitude toward me puzzled me also. She preserved
always the cool but courteous manner one would use to the most casual
acquaintance, yet she did not hesitate to avail herself of every
possible opportunity to come to the house. Then, two or three times
during the latter part of the summer, I found that she had managed to
join outings of ours. Whether this state of affairs was due to Dicky's
wishes or her own subtle planning I could not determine.

I struggled hard with myself to treat the girl with friendliness, but
found it impossible. My manner toward her held as much reserve as was
compatible with formal courtesy. Of course, this did not please Dicky.

Dicky was also developing an unusual sense of punctuality. I always
had thought him quite irresponsible concerning the keeping of his
appointments, and he never had any set time for arriving at his
studio. But he suddenly announced one morning that he must catch the
8:21 train every morning without fail.

"The next one gets in too late," he said, "and I have a tremendous
amount of work on hand."

The explanation was plausible enough, but there was something about it
that did not ring true. However, the solution of his sudden solicitude
for punctuality did not come to me until Mrs. Hoch, one of my
neighbors, called with her daughter, Celie, and enlightened me.

"We just heard something we thought you ought to know," Celie began
primly, "so Ma and I hurried right