of colour in it. She turned upon him,
animal-like, able to strike an effectual second blow.

"I want the Waukesha money to-morrow morning," she said.

He looked at her in amazement. Never before had he seen such a cold,
steely determination in her eye--such a cruel look of indifference.
She seemed a thorough master of her mood--thoroughly confident and
determined to wrest all control from him. He felt that all his resources
could not defend him. He must attack.

"What do you mean?" he said, jumping up. "You want! I'd like to know
what's got into you to-night."

"Nothing's GOT into me," she said, flaming. "I want that money. You can
do your swaggering afterwards."

"Swaggering, eh! What! You'll get nothing from me. What do you mean by
your insinuations, anyhow?"

"Where were you last night?" she answered. The words were hot as they
came. "Who were you driving with on Washington Boulevard? Who were you
with at the theatre when George saw you? Do you think I'm a fool to
be duped by you? Do you think I'll sit at home here and take your 'too
busys' and 'can't come,' while you parade around and make out that I'm
unable to come? I want you to know that lordly airs have come to an end
so far as I am concerned. You can't dictate to me nor my children. I'm
through with you entirely."

"It's a lie," he said, driven to a corner and knowing no other excuse.

"Lie, eh!" she said, fiercely, but with returning reserve; "you may call
it a lie if you want to, but I know."

"It's a lie, I tell you," he said, in a low, sharp voice. "You've been
searching around for some cheap accusation for months and now you think
you have it. You think you'll spring something and get the upper hand.
Well, I tell you, you can't. As long as I'm in this house I'm master of
it, and you or any one else won't dictate to me--do you hear?"

He crept toward her with a light in his eye that was ominous. Something
in the woman's cool, cynical, upper-handish manner, as if she were
already master, caused him to feel for the moment as if he could
strangle her.

She gazed at him--a pythoness in humour.

"I'm not dictating to you," she returned; "I'm telling you what I want."

The answer was so cool, so rich in bravado, that somehow it took the
wind out of his sails. He could not attack her, he could not ask her
for proofs. Somehow he felt evidence, law, the remembrance of all his
property which she held in her name, to be shining in her glance. He
was l