ion,
Irene buried herself in a book--some absorbing novel, usually of the
heroic school.

Naturally, under this state of things, Mr. Emerson, who was social
in disposition, sought companionship elsewhere, and with his own
sex. Brought into contact with men of different tastes, feelings and
habits of thinking, he gradually selected a few as intimate friends,
and, in association with these, formed, as his wife was doing, a
social point of interest outside of his home; thus widening still
further the space between them.

The home duties involved in housekeeping, indifferently as they had
always been discharged by Irene, were now becoming more and more
distasteful to her. This daily care about mere eating and drinking
seemed unworthy of a woman who had noble aspirations, such as burned
in her breast. That was work for women-drudges who had no higher
ambition; "and Heaven knows," she would often say to herself, "there
are enough and to spare of these."

"What's the use of keeping up an establishment like this just for
two people?" she would often remark to her husband; and he would
usually reply,

"For the sake of having a home into which one may retire and shut
out the world."

Irene would sometimes suggest the lighter expense of boarding.

"If it cost twice as much I would prefer to live in my own house,"
was the invariable answer.

"But see what a burden of care it lays on my shoulders."

Now Hartley could only with difficulty repress a word of impatient
rebuke when this argument was used. He thought of his own daily
devotion to business, prolonged often into the night, when an
important case was on hand, and mentally charged his wife with a
selfish love of ease. On the other hand, it seemed to Irene that her
husband was selfish in wishing her to bear the burdens of
housekeeping just for his pleasure or convenience, when they might
live as comfortably in a hotel or boarding-house.

On this subject Hartley would not enter into a discussion. "It's no
use talking, Irene," he would say, when she grew in earnest. "You
cannot tempt me to give up my home. It includes many things that
with me are essential to comfort. I detest boarding-houses; they are
only places for sojourning, not living."

As agreement on this subject was out of the question, Irene did not
usually urge considerations in favor of abandoning their pleasant
home.

CHAPTER XVII.

GONE FOR EVER!

_ONE_ evening--it was nearly three years