After he had studied his paper a few moments longer, he felt that he ought to modify matters in some way or other. Evidently his wife was not going to patch up peace at a word. So he said: "Where did George get the dog he has there in the yard?" "I don't know," she snapped. He put his paper down on his knees and gazed idly out of the window. He did not propose to lose his temper, but merely to be persistent and agreeable, and by a few questions bring around a mild understanding of some sort. "Why do you feel so bad about that affair of this morning?" he said, at last. "We needn't quarrel about that. You know you can go to Waukesha if you want to." "So you can stay here and trifle around with some one else?" she exclaimed, turning to him a determined countenance upon which was drawn a sharp and wrathful sneer. He stopped as if slapped in the face. In an instant his persuasive, conciliatory manner fled. He was on the defensive at a wink and puzzled for a word to reply. "What do you mean?" he said at last, straightening himself and gazing at the cold, determined figure before him, who paid no attention, but went on arranging herself before the mirror. "You know what I mean," she said, finally, as if there were a world of information which she held in reserve--which she did not need to tell. "Well, I don't," he said, stubbornly, yet nervous and alert for what should come next. The finality of the woman's manner took away his feeling of superiority in battle. She made no answer. "Hmph!" he murmured, with a movement of his head to one side. It was the weakest thing he had ever done. It was totally unassured. Mrs. Hurstwood noticed the lack of colour in it. She turned upon him, animal-like, able to strike an effectual second blow. "I want the Waukesha money to-morrow morning," she said. He looked at her in amazement. Never before had he seen such a cold, steely determination in her eye--such a cruel look of indifference. She seemed a thorough master of her mood--thoroughly confident and determined to wrest all control from him. He felt that all his resources could not defend him. He must attack. "What do you mean?" he said, jumping up. "You want! I'd like to know what's got into you to-night." "Nothing's _got_ into me," she said, flaming. "I want that money. You can do your swaggering afterwards." "Swaggering, eh! What! You'll get nothing from me. What do you mean by your insinuations, anyhow?" "Where were you last night?" she answered. The words were hot as they came. "Who were you driving with on Washington Boulevard? Who were you with at the theatre when George saw you? Do you think I'm a fool to be duped by you? Do you think I'll sit at home here and take your 'too busys' and 'can't come,' while you parade around and make out that I'm unable to come? I want you to know that lordly airs have come to an end so far as I am concerned. You can't dictate to me nor my children. I'm through with you entirely."