They clutched at the fast receding past with the realization that it was a dead thing and eluded them already. The present was all that was left and that was heavy with new emotions. Longville presently became aware of a desire to hurt Jo Morey, since he could no longer control her; and Jo eyed the Captain as a suddenly released animal eyes its late torturer: free, but haunted by memories that still fetter its movements. She wanted to get rid of the disturbing presence. "Yes, Mam’selle, since you put it that way," Longville shifted from one foot to the other as he harked back to the words that he saw hurt, "you must buy a husband." "I must go inside," Jo returned bluntly, "good afternoon, Captain." And she abruptly left him. It was rather awkward to be left standing alone on Jo Morey’s trim lawn, so Longville muttered an uncomplimentary opinion of his late victim and strode toward home. *CHAPTER II* *MAM’SELLE MUST BUY A HUSBAND* Longville turned the affairs of Jo Morey over and over in his scheming mind as he walked home. He had made the suggestion as to buying a husband from a mistaken idea of pleasantry, but its effect upon Jo had caused him to take the idea seriously, first as a lash, then as purpose. By the time he reached home he had arrived at a definite conclusion, had selected Jo’s future mate, and had all but settled the details. He ate his evening meal silently, sullenly, and watched his wife contemplatively. There were times when Longville had an uncomfortable sensation when looking at Marcel. It was similar to the sensation one has when he discovers that he has been addressing a stranger instead of the intimate he had supposed. He was the type of man who among his own sex sneers at women because of attributes with which he endows them, but who, when alone with women, has a creeping doubt as to his boasted conclusions and seeks to right matters by bullying methods. Marcel had been bought and absorbed by Longville when she was too young and ignorant to resist openly. What life had taught her she held in reserve. There had never been what seemed an imperative need for rebellion so Marcel had been outwardly complacent. She had fulfilled the duties, that others had declared hers, because she was not clear in her own mind as to any other course, but under her slow outward manner there were currents running from heart to brain that Longville had never discovered, though there were times, like the present, when he stepped cautiously as he advanced toward his wife with a desire for coöperation. "Marcel," he said presently with his awkward, playful manner, "I have an idea!" He stretched his long legs toward the stove. He had eaten to his fill and now lighted his pipe, watching his wife as she bent over the steaming pan of dishes in the sink. Marcel did not turn; ideas were uninteresting, and Longville’s generally involved her in more work and no profit.