rified. With all his faults he
really loved his wife, in his own narrow, limited, selfish way,
intensely.

"Oh, Talbot! to think she's gone back to it all! How awful!"

Talbot gave a gesture of impatience. He understood the girl so much
better than Stephen ever had that his methods seemed unreasonably
foolish to him. And now he was excessively tired and cold and hungry,
and his supper seemed of more importance than a world full of injured
husbands.

"You can't wonder at it, old man," he said. "This life must be
intolerable for a girl like that."

"Why? how?" questioned Stephen, blankly.

"Oh, so quiet; no excitement."

"But women ought to like quiet, and excitement's sinful," returned
Stephen hotly, becoming the Low Church missionary school-teacher at
once.

Talbot merely laughed and shrugged his shoulders, but his laugh was not
friendly, and there was an angry light in his eyes.

"What am I to do?" asked Stephen mechanically, still standing, the
pallor and the horror of his face growing each minute.

"I've told you. Let her have the few days' enjoyment she asks for; then
her heart will reproach her, and she will come back to you."

"But she might think me indifferent," murmured Stephen, his voice almost
choked in his throat.

"I shouldn't leave her long. If she does not return the day after
to-morrow, then you might go; but if you go now and attempt to force her
back, you'll probably make a mess of it."

"But think--my wife--"

"That's all right," returned Talbot, looking at him and understanding
what he was thinking of. "In one way, at least, you know she is a good
girl. She will only gamble a little and drink and get very jolly, and
she'll come back to you in a day or two with no harm done--what are you
doing?" he broke off suddenly, as Stephen began to tear off his slippers
and socks and get his thick wet boots on.

"I'm going after her," he said sullenly, in a thick voice, "to bring her
back home here--alive or dead."

"It will be dead probably, and you'll be exceedingly sorry," returned
Talbot in a cutting tone.

Stephen made no answer, but continued fastening his boots.

"You'd better have your supper before you go out again," remarked
Talbot, sarcastically.

Stephen made no reply. When he had his boots on he put an extra
comforter inside his fur collar, put his cap on, and walked over to the
door. There he hesitated and looked back. Talbot sat unmoved by the
fire, his profile to the door