Nolan, also, frankly disapproved. "It doesn't make any difference what kind of husband she's got," he said decidedly. "As long as he is her husband, it is her duty to stick to him and leave other men alone." "Don't say duty to me," said Eveley crossly. "Five years is long enough for any woman to do her duty. I think she is quite justified in giving Lem a good scare. Maybe he will wake up, and behave himself. But this Gordon is too good-looking, and too desperately nice. How can they play together like two children? You know what will happen." "I think it has already happened. He is head over heels right now, and she is not breaking her heart over Lem, either. I give them two weeks to develop a first-rate rash." "But Miriam believes in duty," said Eveley hopefully. "Maybe that will save them. She would never elope with him, and I do not think he would even ask her, he is so sort of respectable and set." But Nolan was pessimistic. "Folks talk about duty until they fall in love, and then they forget it and everything else. And Lem has acted abominably. I thought she did not know it." "So did I. But--" "Well, no use to worry. We'll stick around with them and sort of boss the job. I am glad you invited them to the Cote to-morrow night." "And for supper, too. When Lem finds she is coming here for a supper party and he is left out, he may begin to think." "The trouble with Lem is, he can't help himself. He loves Miriam all right, but women go to his head. He may get jealous and promise everything on heaven and earth, but he can't keep his word." "Then he shouldn't have married." "She should never have married him. When women understand that a man who can not look at a woman before marriage without making love to her--can't do it afterward--they will save themselves a lot of trouble." "Well," said Eveley hopefully. "No one can say you hurt yourself making love." So the playing went on, Nolan and Eveley acting as constant and merry chaperons, and the little grouping grew more and more congenial. Lem realized that a convulsion was going on in his home, and reformed desperately for days at a time, but a secluded corner and a lovely woman invariably set him pleading for forgiveness. Miriam always forgave him promptly and said it did not bother her; and was at first frightened, and then delighted, to know that it truly did not bother her any more. Then one evening, Eveley had a mad telephone call from Lem, quickly followed by a flying rush to her little Cote. "See what you've done," he shouted, half-way through the window. "That is what comes of your interference. Miriam was the most contented woman on earth till you began feeding her up on this notion of revenge."