remarked. "It's a strong
argument in favor of the legal separation."

"I beg to differ," said Stafford dryly. Rising with a yawn, he went
on: "Half the marital troubles one hears about are the fault of the
wife. She is often too exacting, too fond of meddling in her husband's
affairs. A man who respects himself bends to no one--not even to his
wife." With another yawn he added: "Will you two excuse me for a few
minutes? I have a letter to write."

Without waiting for an answer, he turned on his heel and walked into
the library, closing the door behind him. Hadley puffed away at his
cigar in silence, while Virginia gazed thoughtfully into the fire.
Presently Hadley said:

"Bob's in an argumentative mood to-night."

Virginia sighed as she replied:

"Yes--he has not much patience. He always takes the stand that man is
the master, that women should have no will of their own."

Hadley shook his head as he replied:

"Old-fashioned notion that. The quicker he gets rid of it the better."

Virginia looked at him without speaking. There was an inquiring,
wistful expression in her face, as if she longed to unbosom herself to
someone, and yet had no one close enough, intimate enough in whom she
could confide. Presently she said:

"Mr. Hadley, you've known my husband a number of years. Was he always
as he is now?"

"In what way do you mean?"

"Was he always as dictatorial, as self-centred and self-willed?"

Hadley laughed.

"Yes, Bob was always inclined that way, and it seems to have grown on
him as he has grown older."

There was still another question hovering on the young wife's lips.
Dare she ask it? Why not? This friend was so loyal, so considerate,
that he would understand. If it worried her at all, it was because her
happiness, the future of her unborn children, if she had any, might be
at stake. At last, with an effort, she summoned up courage and
ventured to give expression to what was on her mind.

"Mr. Hadley, there's something else. I've intended to ask you for a
long time--" Hesitating, she said: "I've quite forgotten what it
was--"

He looked at her keenly. He had observed for some time that things
were not quite as they should be in his friend's home. Stafford seemed
to be more indifferent to his wife, he stayed out more at nights; she,
on her side, appeared to be continually on the defensive, as if there
was constant friction. But by no outward sign could she have guessed
that he gauged the sit