l morning, make the
costliest purchases; to drive on the avenue or in the Park of an
afternoon with the latest and most stylish turnout, in the handsomest
toilet; to give the finest dinners; to spend the evening in the most
expensive box; to cause men to open their eyes with admiration, and to
make women grave with envy: all this gave her delight for a time--so
much delight that she could not forego it even for her husband. Norman
was so occupied of late that he could not go about with her as much as
he had done. His father's health had failed, and then he had died,
throwing all the business on Norman.

Ferdy Wickersham had returned home from abroad not long before--alone.
Rumor had connected his name while abroad with some woman--an unknown
and very pretty woman had "travelled with him." Ferdy, being rallied by
his friends about it, shook his head. "Must have been some one else."
Grinnell Rhodes, who had met him, said she declared herself his wife.
Ferdy's denial was most conclusive--he simply laughed.

To Mrs. Wentworth he had told a convincing tale. It was a slander.
Norman was against him, he knew, but she, at least, would believe he had
been maligned.

Wickersham had waited for such a time in the affairs of Mrs. Wentworth.
He had watched for it; striven to bring it about in many almost
imperceptible ways; had tendered her sympathy; had been ready with help
as she needed it; till he began to believe that he was making some
impression. It was, of all the games he played, the dearest just now to
his heart. It had a double zest. It had appeared to the world that
Norman Wentworth had defeated him. He had always defeated him--first as
a boy, then at college, and later when he had borne off the prize for
which Ferdy had really striven. Ferdy would now show who was the real
victor. If Louise Caldwell had passed him by for Norman Wentworth, he
would prove that he still possessed her heart.

It was not long, therefore, before society found a delightful topic of
conversation,--that silken-clad portion of society which usually deals
with such topics,--the increasing intimacy between Ferdy Wickersham and
Mrs. Wentworth.

Tales were told of late visits; of strolls in the dusk of evenings on
unfrequented streets; of little suppers after the opera; of all the
small things that deviltry can suggest and malignity distort. Wickersham
cared little for having his name associated with that of any one, and he
was certainly not goin