ly other time in my life Jack had seen me cry was when my mother
died. Then I had wept my grief out on his shoulder secure in the
knowledge of his brotherly love. As the taxi started, he slipped his
arm around me.

"Whatever it is, dear, cry it out in my arms," he whispered.

But at his touch I shuddered, and drew myself away. I was Dicky's
wife. This situation was intolerable. I must end it at once. With a
mighty effort, I controlled my sobs and, wiping my eyes, sat upright.

"Dear, dear boy," I said. "Please forgive me. I never thought of this
or I would have told you over the telephone."

"Told me what?" Jack's voice was harsh and quick. His arm dropped from
my wrist.

There was no use wasting words in the telling. I took courage in both
hands.

"I am married, Jack," I said faintly. "I have been married over a
month."

"God!" The expletive seemed forced from his lips. I heard the name
uttered that way once before, when a man I knew had been told of his
child's death in an automobile accident. It made me realize as nothing
else could what Jack must be suffering.

But he gave no other sign of having heard my words, simply sat erect,
with folded arms, gazing sternly into vacancy, while the taxi rolled
up Fifth avenue.

Huddled miserably in my corner, I waited for him to speak. I had
summoned courage to tell him the truth, but I could not have spoken
to him again while his face held that frozen look. It frightened and
fascinated me at the same time.

A queer little wonder crossed my mind. Suppose I had known of this a
year ago. Would I have married Jack, and never known Dicky? Would I
have been happier so?

Then there rushed over me the realization that nothing in the
world mattered but Dicky. I wanted him, oh how I wanted him! Jack's
suffering, everything else, were but shadows. My love for my husband,
my need of him--these were the only real things.

I turned to Jack wildly.

"Oh, Jack, I must go home!"

"Margaret." Jack's voice was so different from his usual one that I
started almost in fear.

"Yes, Jack."

"I don't want you to reproach yourself about this. I understand, dear.
The right man came along, and of course you couldn't wait for me to
come back to give my sanction."

"Oh! Jack! I ought to have waited: I know it. You have been so good to
me"

"I've been good to myself, being with you," he returned tenderly. "But
I almost wish you had told me over the telephone. You would never have