mine, the apologies must be mine, Mr. Paxton. I
have kept your wife so besieged by my talk that she has had no chance to
escape."

"No matter at all, I assure you," said Jerry.

Christiansen made hasty adieux.

"You must believe that I intended to come, Jerry. You see I am dressed
for it."

"It was a trifle embarrassing when everybody asked for you."

"I am so sorry."

"You may not be interested in my work, or my friends, but, as my wife,
you certainly must show them some respect," he stormed.

"I hope I have shown them every respect," she began.

"Not at all. You've run away every time a sitter has appeared in this
studio, and now you have deliberately insulted Miss Morton."

"Oh, Jerry, that's not fair. It was an accident."

The telephone rang.

"There she is now. What do you expect me to tell her?"

"Whatever you like. I should tell her the truth."

He answered the call and explained at great length that Mrs. Paxton had
been suddenly taken ill, in the afternoon, and could not come out. She
was covered with chagrin at missing the tea.

"Nice fix to put a man in," he began again.

"Jerry, I cannot be nagged. I have told you the truth. I am sorry I
offended you and your friends. Let's not discuss it any further,
please."

"We might discuss Christiansen possibly. The fascinating gentleman who
makes you forget time, and obligations to your husband."

"You were rude to him."

"I don't care if I was."

"But you expect me to be courteous to Miss Morton."

"That's a different matter."

"I do not find it so. If I am polite to your friends, I expect you to be
the same to mine."

"I won't discuss it with you," he interrupted her. He took his hat and
banged out of the studio.

Jane thought it over for a few moments. Then she, too, put on her things
and went to the Brevoort for her dinner. The waiter bowed a welcome, and
led her to the table where Jerry sat.

"Oh, no," said Jane to the waiter.

"For heaven's sake, sit down!" growled Jerry, rising.

Althea Morton sat at a near-by table, with a party of friends!

CHAPTER XV

The unfortunate dinner at the Brevoort, where Jane had accidentally
joined her husband, only added fuel to his rage. It was obvious to both
of them that Miss Morton thought that Jane had merely refused to come to
her tea. Her cool nod of recognition, and her scornful glance at Jerry
made that point exceedingly evident.

It was perhaps characteristic of Jerry, that