ive perfectly. Madam
must be the wife of a millionaire."

Karl fell to pacing the floor again, glancing impatiently at the door
through which Olga had fled.

"Is she dressing?" asked Millar slyly.

"Yes," Karl answered nervously.

"Is there a mirror in your studio?"

"Yes."

"Madam must be very respectable," Millar said in an insinuating tone;
"she takes so long to dress."

"Your remarks are in very bad taste," Karl cried angrily, walking up
threateningly to his visitor.

Millar stood erect, without changing his expression of ironical
amusement, and said:

"Do you wish to offend me?"

"Yes," Karl snarled.

"Then you, too, must be respectable," the visitor said coolly, adding,
as Karl looked at him with wonder: "In a situation like this only a very
respectable man could behave with such infernal stupidity."

Karl was about to retort when the studio door opened and Olga entered.
He turned quickly toward her and she went to him without noticing
Millar.

"What time is it?" she asked.

"Your husband will be here in ten minutes," Millar interposed.

Olga turned toward him and cried accusingly:

"Then you were not asleep in that chair when my husband was here. You
heard him say when he would return."

"Madam is mistaken. Feminine presentiment always feels the approach of
the husband ten minutes ahead of time. Were it not for those ten
minutes there would be more divorced women, but fewer locked doors."

As he spoke he walked over and unlocked the door leading into the hall,
then turned and looked at them calmly.

"Is this never to finish?" Olga asked.

"I tried to change the subject, but Karl would not let me," Millar
answered.

"I have not spoken a word," Karl protested.

"By your actions, Karl; by the way you jumped up, impatiently consulted
your watch, rushed to the door. Poor chap, he was afraid," he added to
Olga.

"Afraid!" Karl exclaimed.

"Yes, afraid that your husband would come before you finished dressing.
And you were right, Karl."

"Why, my dear Olga----" Karl began impatiently, when the other
interrupted him.

"Please, please, let us be logical," he urged. "Look at the situation.
The husband enters suddenly. 'Well, here I am, back again, my darling,'
he announces. 'Where is the picture? I must see the picture.' There is
none. Karl did not work on the picture. Your husband is worried; he does
not speak, but he is irritated. He wants to speak and the words stick in
his throat.