inking over words to say, and she looked at him
critically, yet eagerly, and waited for him to speak.

He cleared his throat.

"Marie," he said, "hang lunch--until you understand me. This has
been an extraordinary quarter of an hour. I didn't know you had it
in you. You women--you have me fairly beat. I just want--I hope--I
long for you to believe me, when I tell you that rot she talked
about divorce ... that is to say, I swear to you, that, except on
circumstantial evidence, you wouldn't have the ghost of a case. But,
Marie, on circumstantial evidence, I--I don't know that a judge and
jury wouldn't convict me."

His wife was still looking at him critically, eagerly; and he met her
eyes full, and saw, down in the depths wherein had been his delight, a
great faith.

She believed him.

He tingled with joy. "I've been a fool," he weighed out slowly. "We
are; and we--we want looking after, you know. We can't stand our wives
forsaking us. We ask a lot of you, I suppose. Yes, it's a lot."

"Well," she murmured, "we've always got it to give. We're made that
way."

"Not all of you," he denied, with a fleeting thought of Roselle.

"Tell me," Marie asked, "what were you and she talking of so earnestly
when I came in? It won't matter anyway--but I'm just curious to know."

"Shall I tell you?"

"I've asked."

He answered very slowly, as if still weighing his words: "We were
talking of a coming trip I have to make to Paris; I was asking her if
she wouldn't come, too."

A little colour rose in his wife's face.

"I'll come instead," she said clearly.

* * * * *

Osborn Kerr let himself into No. 30, Welham Mansions, laden with
packages. He knew not what thank-offerings to make to heaven, so he
made them to his family. Flowers and chocolate boxes hung about him.

He whistled gaily.

Only three hours ago he had parted from her after that memorable lunch
and, now, here he was again with her in the place called home.

At the sound of his key she came out of her bedroom, dressed for
dinner. The flat was quiet save for homely sounds from the kitchen.
Osborn took his wife in his arms and kissed her. He stated
exuberantly: "I came home early; I just had to."

They went into the sitting-room hand in hand, and she sat down on the
chesterfield before the fire. He did not want to sit down; he was too
happy and restless and urgent. Now and again he hung over the back of
the couch, to caress h