se she had proved the
victor. She also wanted to show Eugene how little difference it all made
to her.

"You certainly are a secretive young man, Mr. Eugene Witla," she
exclaimed, when she saw him. "Why didn't you make him tell us,
Mrs. Witla?" she demanded archly of Angela, but with a secret dagger
thrust in her eyes. "You'd think he didn't want us to know."

Angela cowered beneath the sting of this whip cord. Miriam made her feel
as though Eugene had attempted to conceal his relationship to her--as
though he was ashamed of her. How many more women were there like Miriam
and Norma Whitmore?

Eugene was gaily unconscious of the real animus in Miriam's
conversation, and now that the first cruel moment was over, was talking
glibly of things in general, anxious to make everything seem as simple
and natural as possible. He was working at one of his pictures when
Miriam came in and was eager to obtain her critical opinion, since it
was nearly done. She squinted at it narrowly but said nothing when he
asked. Ordinarily she would have applauded it vigorously. She did think
it exceptional, but was determined to say nothing. She walked
indifferently about, examining this and that object in a superior way,
asking how he came to obtain the studio, congratulating him upon his
good luck. Angela, she decided, was interesting, but not in Eugene's
class mentally, and should be ignored. He had made a mistake, that was
plain.

"Now you must bring Mrs. Witla up to see me," she said on leaving. "I'll
play and sing all my latest songs for you. I have made some of the
daintest discoveries in old Italian and Spanish pieces."

Angela, who had posed to Eugene as knowing something about music,
resented this superior invitation, without inquiry as to her own
possible ability or taste, as she did Miriam's entire attitude. Why was
she so haughty--so superior? What was it to her whether Eugene had said
anything about her or not?

She said nothing to show that she herself played, but she wondered that
Eugene said nothing. It seemed neglectful and inconsiderate of him. He
was busy wondering what Miriam thought of his picture. Miriam took his
hand warmly at parting, looked cheerfully into his eyes, and said, "I
know you two are going to be irrationally happy," and went out.

Eugene felt the irritation at last. He knew Angela felt something.
Miriam was resentful, that was it. She was angry at him for his seeming
indifference. She had commented