ly.

"I consider this a night wasted," said Jack. "I would rather have gone
to the Casino, for a change."

"It didn't much matter where we went, as long as we spent our last
evening together," Victor Nevill replied. "You know I leave for Rome
to-morrow. I fancy it will be a good move, for I have been going the
pace too fast in Paris."

"So have I," said Jack, wearily. "I'm not as lucky as you, with a pot of
money to draw on. I intend to turn over a new leaf, old chap, and you'll
find me reformed when you come back. I've been a fool, Nevill. When my
mother died last February I came into 30,000 francs, and for the last
five months I have been scattering my inheritance recklessly. Very
little of it is left now."

"But you have been working?"

"Yes, in a sort of a way. But you can imagine how it goes when a fellow
turns night into day."

"It's time you pulled up," said Nevill, "before you go stone broke. You
owe that much to your wife."

He spoke with a slight sneer which escaped his companion.

"I like that," Jack muttered bitterly. "Diane has spent two francs to
my one--or helped me to spend them."

"Such is the rosy path of marriage," Nevill remarked lightly.

"Shut up!" said Jack.

He laughed as he drained his glass of cognac, and then settled back in
his seat with a moody expression. His thoughts were not pleasant ones.
Since the early part of the year he and his wife had been gradually
drifting apart, and even when they were together at theatres or
luxurious cafes, spending money like water, there had been a restraint
between them. Of late Diane's fits of temper had become more frequent,
and only yielded to a handful of gold or notes. Jack had sought his own
amusements and left her much alone--more than was good for her, he now
reflected uneasily. Yet he had the utmost confidence in her still, and
not a shadow of suspicion had crossed his mind. He believed that his
honor was safe in her care.

"I have wished a thousand times that I had never married," he said to
himself, "but it is too late for that now. I must make the best of it.
I still love Diane, and I don't believe she has ceased to care for me.
Poor little girl! Perhaps she feels my neglect, and is too proud to own
it. I was ready enough to cut work and spend money. Yes, it has been my
fault. I'll go to her to-night and tell her that. I'll ask her to move
back to our old lodgings, where we were so happy. And then I'll turn
over that new leaf--"