who is rich, and marries a richer man? Wasn't it what married
life should be?

"I don't know what makes me nervous to-night," Margaret said to herself
finally, settling back comfortably in her furs. "Perhaps I only imagine
John is going to make one of his favorite scenes when we get home.
Probably he hasn't seen the article at all. I don't care, anyway! If it
SHOULD come to a divorce, why, we know plenty of people who are happier
that way. Thank Heaven, there isn't a child to complicate things!"

Five feet away from her, as the motor-car waited before crossing the
park entrance, a tall man and a laughing girl were standing, waiting to
cross the street.

"But aren't we too late for gallery seats?" Margaret heard the girl
say, evidently deep in an important choice.

"Oh, no!" the man assured her eagerly.

"Then I choose the fifty-cent dinner and 'Hoffman' by all means," she
decided joyously.

Margaret looked after them, a sudden pain at her heart. She did not
know what the pain was. She thought she was pitying that young husband
and wife; but her thoughts went back to them as she entered her own
warm, luxurious rooms a few moments later.

"Fifty-cent dinner!" she murmured. "It must be awful!"

To her surprise, her husband followed her into her room, without
knocking, and paid no attention to the very cold stare with which she
greeted him.

"Sit down a minute, Margaret, will you?" he said, "and let your woman
go. I want to speak to you."

Angry to feel herself a little at loss, Margaret nodded to the maid,
and said in a carefully controlled tone:

"I am dining at the Kelseys', John. Perhaps some other time--"

Her husband, a thin, tall man, prematurely gray, was pacing the floor
nervously, his hands plunged deep in his coat pockets. He cleared his
throat several times before he spoke. His voice was sharp, and his
words were delivered quickly:

"It's come to this, Margaret--I'm very sorry to have to tell you, but
things have finally reached the point where it's--it's got to come out!
Bannister and I have been nursing it along; we've done all that we
could. I went down to Washington and saw Peterson, but it's no use! We
turn it all over--the whole thing--to the creditors to-morrow!" His
voice rose suddenly; it was shocking to see the control suddenly fail.
"I tell you it's all up, Margaret! It's the end of me! I won't face it!"

He dropped into a chair, but suddenly sprang up again, and began to
walk about