she feared, he should suspect her on account of this Negro woman, and
quarrel with her--

But he must not. This very night, before the morning papers came out,
she must explain. He must see; he must appreciate her efforts.

She rushed into her dressing-room and called her maid. Contrary to her
Puritan notions, she frankly sought to beautify herself. She remembered
that it was the anniversary of her coming to this house. She got out her
wedding-dress, and although it hung loosely, the maid draped the Silver
Fleece beautifully about her.

She heard her husband enter and come up-stairs. Quickly finishing her
toilet, she hurried down to arrange the flowers, for they were alone
that night. The telephone rang. She knew it would ring up-stairs in his
room, but she usually answered it for he disliked to. She raised the
receiver and started to speak when she realized that she had broken into
the midst of a conversation.

"--committee won't meet tonight, Harry."

"So? All right. Anything on?"

"Yes--big spree at Nell's. Will you go?"

"Sure thing; you know me! What time?"

"Meet us at the Willard by nine. S'long."

"Good-bye."

She slowly, half guiltily, replaced the receiver. She had not meant to
listen, but now to her desperate longing to keep him home was added a
new motive. Where was "Nell's"? What was "Nell's"? What was--and there
was fear in her heart. At dinner she tried all her powers on him. She
had his favorite dishes; she mixed his salad and selected his wine; she
talked interestingly, and listened sympathetically, to him. He looked at
her with more attention. Her cheeks were more brilliant, for she had
touched them with rouge. Her eyes flashed; but he glanced furtively at
her short hair. She saw the act; but still she strove until he was
content and laughing; then coming round back of his chair, she placed
her arms about his neck.

"Harry, will you do me a favor?"

"Why, yes--if--"

"It is something I want very, very much."

"Well, all right, if--"

"Harry, I feel a little--hysterical, tonight, and--you will not refuse
me, will you, Harry?"

Standing there, she saw the tableau in her own mind, and it looked
strange. She was afraid of herself. She knew that she would do something
foolish if she did not win this battle. She felt that overpowering
fanaticism back within her raging restlessly. If she was not careful--

"But what is it you want?" asked her husband.

"I don't want you to go out toni