w could she, marrying him before she had
spoken a half-dozen words to him? But how wonderful she had been to him
since--sometimes almost as if she cared for him....

He moved ungraciously. "Don't _touch_ me, Phyllis!" he said irritably.
"Wallis! You can wheel me into my room."

"Oh-h!" said Phyllis, behind him. The little forlorn sound hurt him, but
it pleased him, too. So he could hurt her, if only by rudeness? Well,
that was a satisfaction. "Shut the door," he ordered Wallis swiftly.

Phyllis, her hands at her throat, stood hurt and frightened in the
middle of the room. It never occurred to her that Allan was jealous, or
indeed that he could care enough for her to be jealous.

"It was talking about Louise Frey," she said. "That, and Dr. Hewitt
bringing up old times. Oh, _why_ did I ask about her? He was
contented--I know he was contented! He'd gotten to like having me with
him--he even wanted me. Oh, Allan, Allan!"

She did not want to cry downstairs, so she ran for her own room. There
she threw herself down and cried into a pillow till most of the case was
wet. She was silly--she knew she was silly. She tried to think of all
the things that were still hers, the garden, the watch-bracelet, the
leisure, the pretty gowns--but nothing, _nothing_ seemed of any
consequence beside the fact that--she had not kissed Allan good-night!
It seemed the most intolerable thing that had ever happened to her.

XIV

It was just as well, perhaps, that Phyllis did not do much sleeping that
night, for at about two Wallis knocked at her door. It seemed like
history repeating itself when he said: "Could you come to Mr. Allan,
please? He seems very bad."

She threw on the silk crepe negligee and followed him, just as she had
done before, on that long-ago night after her mother-in-law had died.

"Did Dr. Hewitt's visit overexcite him, do you think?" he asked as they
went.

"I don't know, ma'am," Wallis said. "He's almost as bad as he was after
the old madam died--you remember?"

"Oh, yes," said Phyllis mechanically. "I remember."

* * * * *

Allan lay so exactly as he had on that other night, that the strange
surroundings seemed incongruous. Just the same, except that his
restlessness was more visible, because he had more power of motion.

She bent and held the nervously clenching hands, as she had before.
"What is it, Allan?" she said soothingly.

"Nothing," said her husband savagely.