ip and
had been married only two months, he got tangled up in business and
used to leave me for a day--for two days, once."

At Pauline's right sat a carefully dressed young man whose name she had
not caught--she learned afterward that he was Mowbray Langdon. He was
now giving her a stare of amused mock-admiration. When he saw that he
had her attention, he said: "Really, Mrs. Dumont, I can't decide which
to admire most--YOUR trust or your husband's."

Pauline laughed--it struck her as ridiculous that either she or Jack
should distrust the other. Indeed, she only hazily knew what distrust
meant, and hadn't any real belief that "such things" actually existed.

Half an hour later the party was driving up to Weber and Fields'.
Pauline, glancing across the thronged sidewalk and along the empty,
brilliantly lighted passage leading into the theater, saw a striking,
peculiar-looking woman standing at the box-office while her escort
parleyed with the clerk within. "How much that man looks like Jack,"
she said to herself--and then she saw that it was indeed Jack. Not the
Jack she thought she knew, but quite another person, the one he tried
to hide from her--too carelessly, because he made the common mistake of
underestimating the sagacity of simplicity. A glance at the woman, a
second glance at Dumont, his flushed, insolent face now turned full
front--and she KNEW this unfamiliar and hitherto-only-hinted Jack.

The omnibus was caught in a jam of cars and carriages; there were
several moments of confusion and excitement. When the Fanshaw party
was finally able to descend, she saw that Jack and his companion were
gone--the danger of a scene was over for the moment. She lingered and
made the others linger, wishing to give him time to get to his seats.
When they entered the theater it was dark and the curtain was up. But
her eyes, searching the few boxes visible from the rear aisle, found
the woman, or, at least, enough of her for recognition--the huge black
hat with its vast pale blue feather. Pauline drew a long breath of
relief when the Fanshaws' box proved to be almost directly beneath, the
box.

If she had been a few years older, she would have given its proper
significance to the curious fact that this sudden revelation of the
truth about her husband did not start a tempest of anger or jealousy,
but set her instantly to sacrificing at the shrine of the great god
Appearances. It is notorious that of all the house