Seated alone in his room and absorbed in his book, Potter was oblivious of the lengthening shadows and was only recalled to his surroundings by the opening of the door. "Well, what is it?" he asked testily. "Oh!" At sight of his wife, his expression brightened. "I did not expect you home so soon." "Soon?" Nina laughed softly, as she brushed his unruly gray hair back from his forehead. "Have you no idea of the time? It is nearly six o'clock, and you should not be reading with only one light turned on. Doctor McLean must talk to you." Potter made a wry face. "I would rather listen to you than any doctor," he said and pulled forward a chair close to his own. "Tell me, have you had a pleasant time at Mrs. Parsons' tea?" "Does one ever have a pleasant time at a tea?" Nina's gesture was eloquent. "Where are your matches, dear?"--fumbling, as she spoke, with her cigarette case. Potter frowned slightly as he located a match box under the tumbled papers on his desk and struck a light for her. He had never been able to master his dislike to women smoking, in spite of his staunch belief that his pretty wife was always right in everything she did. Reading his expression like a book, Nina slipped her hand inside his and leaned against his arm. "It is very lonely going about without you," she murmured. "I don't enjoy myself a bit when you remain at home." Potter turned and kissed the soft cheek so near his own. "My holiday is over," he answered, and putting out his foot touched a packing case, its contents partly spread on the floor in an untidy pile. "I cannot neglect my work." "You will never be accused of that," with flattering emphasis. "But, dear, I need--want your society more than these dreadful reptiles," and she made a slight grimace as she glanced at the bottles containing specimens preserved in alcohol which adorned the shelves of a cabinet near at hand. "I know," lowering her voice, "I'm selfish--" "I love your selfishness, dear," he replied, and held her closely to him just as a tap sounded on the door. "Confound it! Come in." The Japanese servant, who answered his command, bowed profoundly, and his calm gaze never flickered at sight of the loverlike attitude of husband and wife. "You home, Sir?" he asked. "Yes, of course, I'm home. What of it?" Potter dropped his arm from about his wife's waist in embarrassment. "Mr. Rodgers call upon you." The Japanese spoke without haste. "You see him?" "Certainly. Bring him here," and at the words Moto vanished. "Here?" echoed Nina. "Isn't it a bit untidy?" "What of it? He hasn't come to see us," he grumbled. "Probably thinks Kitty is here. I don't approve of Kitty playing fast and loose with those two men." "What men?" Nina was not looking at her husband, and missed his keen scrutiny.