The woman laughed angrily. "Is that so? I suppose you count a few motor rides and a few suppers on the side nothing. I suppose you wouldn't mind telling your wife that you had held me in your arms and kissed my eyes and my hair...." "Good Heavens! neither of us meant anything wrong! We were just carried away for a few minutes--you're a fascinating devil--and the wine helped some.... Now, don't do that, don't do any of that foolish business with me...." What was she doing, I wondered? Did she intend to kill him or kill herself? I almost started to Will's rescue, then--she laughed. "Powder your nose and let's go down. Somebody will notice our absence." Evidently she obeyed, for there was another pause. "You needn't worry about your wife," she said. "The giant from the West is keeping her busy. Better keep your eye on him." Will did not reply. My eardrums seemed on the point of bursting from the surging of the blood to my head. They came out into the corridor. At the head of the steps she stopped. "I suppose it amuses you to make women love you," she said. "My dear woman, you don't love me; I don't flatter myself to that extent." She laughed sneeringly. Would they never go? "Kiss me good-night and good-bye," she half whispered. "This is the last one," he answered, "the last, remember." There was a stifled cry as she clung to him, and I saw Will release himself and run down the steps. A few minutes later she followed. I found my way down the servants' stairs and entered the dining-room from the butler's pantry. When Will came to look for me I was drinking brandy frappée with the wine merchant.... That night I slept on a couch beside my boy's crib. CHAPTER VI After that memorable dinner party things were never quite the same between Will and me. I am sure, however, that Will was unconscious of the fact. He went about as usual. At this juncture Boy came down with scarlet-fever. The enforced quarantine acted as a bar to any intimacy between my husband and me. I welcomed the isolation. My feelings had not yet recovered from the bruise I had received. How many times I had re-lived the scene to which I had been an unwilling eavesdropper! I blamed myself for not at once having made my presence known. I excused myself on the ground that to have done so would have placed Will in a ridiculous and embarrassing situation. For some inexplicable reason the idea of embarrassing my husband was repugnant to me. My resentment was concentrated against the woman. I felt sure she was to blame. I invented all kinds of excuses for Will and at the same time I recognized that they were pure inventions. I could not bring myself to kiss my husband--at least, not for a long, long time. His arms no longer connoted a haven. How utterly wretched I was--how lonely and heart-hungry! Only a fierce struggle with my self-respect kept me from throwing myself into my husband's arms and crying out my hurt against his breast.