s apathy toward the theatre
and his dislike of social distractions as a caprice, a crotchet on his
part. She never considered what he had gone through in the way of
theatricals and concerts; she had completely forgotten what he had
confessed to her in a decisive hour.

When she came home late in the evening with burning cheeks and glowing
eyes, Daniel did not have the courage to give her the advice he felt she
so sorely needed. "Why snatch her from her heaven?" he thought. "She
will become demure and quiet in time; her wild lust for pleasure will
fade and disappear."

He was afraid of her pouting mien, her tears, her perplexed looks, her
defiant running about. But he lacked the words to express himself. He
knew how ineffectual warning and reproach might be and were. Empty
talking back and forth he could not stand, while if he made a really
human remark it found no response. She did not appreciate what he said;
she misunderstood, misinterpreted everything. She laughed, shrugged her
shoulders, pouted, called him an old grouch, or cooed like a dove. She
did not look at him with real eyes; there was no flow of soul in what
she did.

Gloom filled his heart.

The waste in the household affairs became worse and worse from week to
week. Daniel would have felt like a corner grocer if he had never let
her know how much he had saved, or had given her less than she asked
for. And so his money was soon all gone. Dorothea troubled herself very
little about the economic side of their married life. She told
Philippina what to do, and fell into a rage if her orders were not
promptly obeyed.

"It's too dull for her here. My God, such a young woman!" said
Philippina to Daniel with simulated regret. "She wants to have a good
time; she wants to enjoy her life. And you can't blame her."

Philippina was the mistress of the house. She went to the market, paid
the bills, superintended the cook and the washwoman, and rejoiced with
exceeding great and fiendish joy when she saw how rapidly everything was
going downhill, downhill irresistibly and as sure as your life.

VIII

As the time approached for Dorothea's confinement she very rarely left
the house. She would lie in bed until about eleven o'clock, when she
would get up, dress, comb her hair, go through her wardrobe, and write
letters.

She carried on a most elaborate correspondence; those who received her
letters praised her amusing style.

Aft