sgusted me.
Subconsciously I was contrasting the way in which he calmly expected
me to accept his friendship for Lillian Gale, and his behavior over
this letter. Five minutes earlier I would have explained to him fully.
I resolved now to put my friendship for Jack upon the same basis as
his for Mrs. Underwood.

So I looked at him coolly. "Have you read the letter?" I asked
quietly.

"You know I have not read the letter." he snarled. "It lay on the
papers. I could not help but see this--this--whatever it is," he
finished lamely, "and I have come straight to you for an explanation."

"Better read the letter," I advised quietly. "I give you full
permission."

I could have laughed at Dicky, if I had been less angry. He was so
like an angry, curious child in his eagerness to know everything about
Jack.

"You have no brother. Is this man a relative?"

"No," I returned demurely.

"An old lover then, I suppose a confident one, I should judge by the
tone of the letter. Won't it be too cruel a blow to him when he finds
his dear little girl is married?"

Dicky's tone fairly dripped with irony. "He will be surprised
certainly," I answered, "but as he never was my lover, I don't think
it will be any blow to him."

"Who is he, anyway? Why have you never told me about him? What does he
look like?"

Dicky fairly shot the questions at me. I turned and went into my room.
There I rummaged in a box of old photographs until I found two fairly
good likenesses of Jack. I carried them to the kitchen and put them in
Dicky's hands. He glared at them, then threw them on the table.

"Humph! Looks like a gorilla with the mumps," he growled. "Who is this
precious party, then, if he is not a lover or a relative?"

"He is an old and dear friend. His friendship means as much to me
as--well--say Lillian Gale's means to you."

Dicky stared at me a long, long look as if he had just discovered me.
Then he turned on his heel.

"Well, I'll be--" I did not find out what he would be, for he went out
and slammed the door.

I sat down to a humiliating half-hour's thought. It isn't a bad idea
at times to "loaf and invite your soul," and then cast up account with
it. My account looked pretty discouraging.

Dicky and I had been married a little over two weeks. Two weeks
of idiotically happy honeymooning, and then the last three days of
quarrels, reconciliations, jealousies, petty bickerings and the shadow
of real issues between us.

Was thi