near his wife. "Tell me
what you've been doing all day. Am I in for that dinner at Annie's
to-night? I wish I could stay here and gossip with you girls."

"Dearest, you'd get so stupid, tied here to me, that you wouldn't know
who was President of the United States!" Alice smiled. "Yes, I promised
you to Annie two weeks ago. To-morrow night Norma goes to Leslie, and
you and I have dinner all alone, so console yourself with that."

"_Tres bien_," Christopher agreed. And as if the phrase suggested it, he
went on to test Norma's French. Norma was never self-conscious with him,
and in a few seconds he and Alice were laughing at her earnest
absurdities. When husband and wife went on into a conversation of their
own, Norma sat back idly, conscious that the atmosphere was always easy
and pleasant when Chris was at home, there were no petty tensions and no
sensitive misconstructions while Chris was talking. Sometimes with Annie
and Alice, and even with Leslie, Norma could be rapidly brought to the
state of feeling prickly all over, afraid to speak, and equally
uncomfortable in silence. But Chris always smoothed her spirit into
utter peace, and reestablished her sense of proportion, her sense of
humour.

Neither he nor Alice noticed her when she presently went away to change
her gown for dinner, but when she came out of her room, half an hour
later, Chris was just coming up to his. Their rooms were on the same
floor--his the big front room, and hers one of the sunny small ones at
the back of the house. Norma's and that of Miss Slater, Alice's nurse,
were joined by a bathroom; Chris had his own splendid dressing-room and
bath, fitted, like his bedroom, with rugs and chests and highboys worthy
of a museum.

"Aren't you going to be late, Chris?" Norma asked, when they met at the
top of the stairs. Fresh from a bath, with her rich dark hair pushed
back in two shining wings from her smooth forehead, and her throat
rising white and soft from the frills of a black lacy gown, she was the
incarnation of youth and sweetness as she looked up at him. "Seven
o'clock!" she reminded him.

For answer he surprised her by catching her hand, and staring gravely
down at her.

"Were you angry at me, Norma?" he asked, in a quiet, businesslike voice.

"Angry?" she echoed, surprised. But her colour rose. "No, Chris. Why
should I be?"

"There is no reason why you should be, of course," he answered, simply,
almost indifferently. And immediately