ose's house, in New Jersey, and
Norma dared not refuse. They locked the apartment, and walked slowly
down Broadway, as they had walked so many thousand times before, in the
streaming Sunday crowds. Before they had gone a block Wolf opened
hostilities by asking abruptly:

"Where did you go to church this morning?"

Norma flushed, and laughed a little.

"I went down to the Cathedral; I'm fond of it, you know. Why?"

"Did you meet Chris Liggett?" Wolf asked.

"Yes--I did, Wolf. He goes to the church near there, now and then."

"When you telephone him to," Wolf said, grimly.

Norma began to feel frightened. She had never heard this tone from Wolf
before.

"I did telephone him, as a matter of fact--or rather he happened to
telephone me, and I said I was going there. Is there anything so
horrifying in that?" she asked.

"Just after you went out, the telephone operator asked me if the Murray
Hill number had gotten us," Wolf answered; "that's how I happen to
know."

Norma was angry, ashamed, and afraid, all at once. For twenty feet they
walked in silence. She stole more than one anxious look at her
companion; Wolf's face was set like flint. He was buttoned into the
familiar old overcoat, a tall, brown, clean-shaven, and just now
scowling young man of the accepted American type, firm of jaw, keen of
eye, and with a somewhat homely bluntness of feature preventing him from
being describable as handsome, or with at best a rough, hard, open-eyed
sort of handsomeness that was as unconscious of itself as the beauty of
a young animal.

"Wolf, don't be cross," his wife pleaded, in illogical coaxing.

"I'm not cross," he said, with an annoyed glance that humiliated and
angered her. "But I don't like this sort of thing, Norma, and I should
think you'd know why."

"What sort of thing?" Norma countered, quickly.

"The sort of thing that evidently Mr. Christopher Liggett thinks is fair
play!" Wolf said, with youthful bitterness. "Harry saw you both walking
up Fifth Avenue yesterday, and Joe Anderson happened to mention that you
and a man were lunching together on Thursday, down at the Lafayette.
There may be no harm in it----"

"There _may_ be!" Norma echoed, firing. "You know very well there
_isn't_!"

"You see him every day," Wolf said.

"I _don't_ see him every day! But if I did, it wouldn't be Harry
Redding's and Joe Anderson's business!"

"No," Wolf said, more mildly, "but it might be mine!"

Norma realized tha