g on her old
acquaintance with Eugene--that she was too affected and enthusiastic.

There was another day on which Miriam Finch called. Richard Wheeler,
having learned at Smite's and MacHugh's studio of Eugene's marriage and
present whereabouts, had hurried over, and then immediately afterwards
off to Miriam Finch's studio. Surprised himself, he knew that she would
be more so.

"Witla's married!" he exclaimed, bursting into her room, and for the
moment Miriam lost her self-possession sufficiently to reply almost
dramatically: "Richard Wheeler, what are you talking about! You don't
mean that, do you?"

"He's married," insisted Wheeler, "and he's living down in Washington
Square, 61 is the number. He has the cutest yellow-haired wife you ever
saw."

Angela had been nice to Wheeler and he liked her. He liked the air of
this domicile and thought it was going to be a good thing for Eugene. He
needed to settle down and work hard.

Miriam winced mentally at the picture. She was hurt by this deception of
Eugene's, chagrined because he had not thought enough of her even to
indicate that he was going to get married.

"He's been married ten days," communicated Wheeler, and this added force
to her temporary chagrin. The fact that Angela was yellow-haired and
cute was also disturbing.

"Well," she finally exclaimed cheerfully, "he might have said something
to us, mightn't he?" and she covered her own original confusion by a gay
nonchalance which showed nothing of what she was really thinking. This
was certainly indifference on Eugene's part, and yet, why shouldn't he?
He had never proposed to her. Still they had been so intimate mentally.

She was interested to see Angela. She wondered what sort of a woman she
really was. "Yellow-haired! Cute!" Of course, like all men, Eugene had
sacrificed intellect and mental charm for a dainty form and a pretty
face. It seemed queer, but she had fancied that he would not do
that--that his wife, if he ever took one, would be tall perhaps, and
gracious, and of a beautiful mind--someone distinguished. Why would men,
intellectual men, artistic men, any kind of men, invariably make fools
of themselves! Well, she would go and see her.

Because Wheeler informed him that he had told Miriam, Eugene wrote,
saying as briefly as possible that he was married and that he wanted to
bring Angela to her studio. For reply she came herself, gay, smiling,
immaculately dressed, anxious to hurt Angela becau