"It's a perfect shame!" she exclaimed indignantly. "I can't see the least bit of harm in your going to the store and buying what you did. You weren't even wasting the pocket money that you had a right to spend as you pleased. Grandpa Dinsmore is a--a--rather tyrannical, I think." "It does seem hard to have so little liberty," Max said, discontentedly, "but I don't know that he's any more strict, after all, than papa." "Well, I must run away now," said Zoe, jumping up. "Here's something to sweeten your imprisonment," putting a box of confectionery into his hand. "Good-by," and she tripped away. She met her husband in the hall upon which their rooms opened. "Where have you been?" he asked coldly, and with a suspicious look. "That's my affair," she returned, flushing, and with a saucy little toss of her pretty head. He gave her a glance of mingled surprise and displeasure. "What has come over you, Zoe?" he asked. "Can't you give a civil answer to a simple question?" "Of course I can, Mr. Travilla, but I think it's a pretty story if I'm to be called to account as to where I go even about the house." "Nothing but a guilty conscience could have made you look at my question in that light," he said, leaning against the mantel and looking down severely at her as she stood before him, for they were now in her boudoir. "I presume you have been in Max's room, condoling with and encouraging him in his defiance of grandpa's authority; and let me tell you, I won't allow it." "It makes no difference whether you allow it or not," she said, turning away with a contemptuous sniff. "I'm my own mistress." "Do you mean to defy my authority, Zoe?" he asked, with suppressed anger. "Yes, I do. I'll do anything in the world for love and coaxing, but I won't be driven. I'm your wife, sir, not your slave." "I have no desire to enslave you, Zoe," he said, his tone softening, "but you are so young, so very young for a married woman, that you surely ought to be willing to submit to a little loving guidance and control." "I didn't perceive much love in the attempt you made just now," she said, seating herself and opening a book. He watched her for a moment. She seemed absorbed in reading, and he could not see that the downcast eyes were too full of tears to distinguish one letter from another. He left the room without another word, and hardly had the door closed on him when she flung the book from her, ran into the dressing-room, and throwing herself on a couch, cried as if her heart would break. "He's all I have, all I have!" she moaned, "and he's beginning to be cruel to me! Oh, what shall I do! what shall I do! Papa, papa, why did you die and leave your darling all alone in this cold world?"