Derrice, excited and refreshed by her visit, and the attention she had received, almost fell into her husband's arms. "Oh, Justin, have I kept you up?" "No," he said, and he led the way to the dining-room, where the gas was burning brightly, and a book was lying face downward on the table. "Look at my flowers; are they not delightful?" and she displayed a bouquet of roses and geraniums. "Very delightful." "I've had a good time,--such a good time, but who are those people? I could not ask many questions, and I had no time with Mr. Huntington. I thought perhaps you would not like my going there. Miss Gastonguay was not very polite to your mother, but I don't think she means all she says," and she paused doubtfully. Justin scarcely heard what she said. He was absorbed in examining her flushed, charming face, her tumbled hair, her youthful self-possession, with its touch of timidity. Not since they had come to Rossignol had he seen her so excited as she was at present. "Did you mind my going?" she asked. "No; nothing you could have done would have given me greater pleasure." "You like Miss Gastonguay?" "Yes." Derrice's radiant eyes flashed around the room, then, shuddering slightly, she drew her cloak about her. "It is dull for you to come back to this house," said her husband, quietly. "You feel the contrast between it and Miss Gastonguay's beautiful home." She dropped her head to his hand that lay outstretched on the table. "It is like a stone vault," she whispered against his fingers; "can't we leave it?" She was so chary of her caresses that Justin's blood grew warm in his veins, though his manner became troubled. "Never mind to-night," she went on. "I don't want to vex you. Oh, I have had such a good time!" and she closed her eyes rapturously until a sudden misgiving caused them to fly open. "You didn't miss me, I hope?" "I always miss you." "But not with a hateful, longing miss. Do tell me that you are beginning to get weaned away from me. Oh, I should be so glad! It is ridiculous for you to be so fond of me. Really, it just makes me laugh,"--and she shook her head like a provoking child. "You little flirt," he said, composedly. "You have gone out and got your blood stirred, and, coming back to this quiet house, you, for lack of other amusement, wish to incite me to make love to you." "It isn't that at all," she said, poutingly. "You are only eighteen," he observed. "I am sorry you regret having married one so young." "I don't regret it,--it was unavoidable." "Why didn't you wait until I was older?" "Ah, why did I not?" he asked, with some humour. "Justin," she said, wistfully, "there is some mystery about you and papa and myself,--what is it?" Her husband did not answer her. He took off his glasses, rubbed his hand over his eyes, stifled a yawn, and glanced at his watch. "You are provoking," she said, petulantly. "When you don't want to tell me anything, you just keep still."