he place, leaving me all the worries. You never
helped nor shared." ... "A year ago you left me, glad to go, and I
thought my heart would break." ... "But I don't want you." ...

"If she knew," he thought restlessly, with Roselle in his mind, "it'd
be different. I'd understand what's piqued her. But, as far as she
knows, she's been no worse off than other men's wives."

Her joy over her restored teeth and hands surprised him; it seemed so
freshly childish. "I'll own it's hard on women," he thought, "but what
could I have done? What did she expect me to do?"

He was quivering, soft, vulnerable.

"Did I really mean--just that--to her and the kids? Just somebody
coming in to grump and grumble...."

The fire died down while he sat there, but what matter? She was not
lying awake for him. When the desire came to him to make one last
appeal, he checked it.

"No," he told himself cautiously, "give her time--lots of it. She'll
come round."

He began to rake out the ashes suddenly and methodically, to switch
out the lights. And very soberly he went to the room where his small
son lay asleep.

His entrance roused George.

"Are you going to sleep with me, Daddy?" he asked nervously.

"Yes, old son," Osborn replied as nervously as the child had spoken.

"I'll be very quiet in the morning, Daddy," said George.

"You needn't be, old boy," Osborn replied.

He sat down on the edge of George's bed, with a wish that someone of
all his household, this child at least, should be glad to see him.

"We're going to be great pals," he stated, "aren't we?"

"Yes, Daddy," the child answered.

"Give me a kiss and say good night, then."

George obeyed dutifully. Osborn tucked him up and turned away. As he
undressed he thought of the toys he would buy the children to-morrow.

CHAPTER XXIII

INDIFFERENCE

Marie met her husband serenely at the breakfast-table next morning.
She looked fair and fresh and had other things to do than to give him
undivided attention. George and Minna were at table, behaving
charmingly, though the baby, being yet at a sloppy stage, was taking
her breakfast in the kitchen in deference to her father's return.
Osborn paid his family some attention and his newspaper none; and he
appeared to be in no hurry to be off.

"My first morning back," he remarked; "I need hardly turn up
punctually."

"I suppose," said Marie, with interest, from behind her coffee-pot,
"that your work will be rather diff