From out the depths of the big davenport Harry Randall inspected steadily the rebellious little woman opposite. He did not answer at once, it was not his way; but he was thinking seriously. To say that the present moment was a surprise would be false. For long, straws had indicated the trend of the wind, and he was not blind. There was an excuse for the attitude, too. He was just enough to realize that. As she had said, she was born differently, bred differently, educated to a life of ease. And he, Harry Randall, had known it from the first, knew it when he married her. Just now, to be sure, he was financially flat, several months ahead of his meagre salary; but that did not alter the original premise, the original obligation. He remembered this now as he looked at her, remembered and decided--the only way it seemed to him possible an honorable man could decide. "Very well, Margery," he said gravely, "you may have the maid back, of course, if you wish it. I had hoped we might get along for a time, while we were paying for the things in the house, anyway; but"--he looked away--"I guess we'll manage it somehow." "Somehow!" Margery glanced at him with only partial comprehension. "Is it really as bad as that, as hopeless?" Randall smiled the slow smile that made his smooth face seem fairly boyish. "I don't know exactly what you mean by bad, or hopeless; but it's a fact that so far we've been spending a good deal more than my income." "I'm sorry, dear, really." It was the contrition of one absolutely unaccustomed to consideration of ways and means, uncomprehending. "Particularly so just now with winter coming on and--and girls, you know, have to get such a lot of things for winter." This time Randall did not smile; neither did he show irritation. "What, for instance?" he inquired directly. "Oh, a tailored suit for one thing, and a winter hat, and high shoes, and--and a lot of things." "Do you really need them, Margery?" It was prosaic pathos, but pathos nevertheless. "There's coal to be bought, you know, and my life insurance comes due next month. I don't want to seem to be stingy, you know that; but--" he halted miserably. "Need them!" It was mild vexation. "Of course I need them, silly. A girl can't go around when the thermometer's below zero with net shirtwaists and open-work stockings." "Of course," quickly. With an effort the smile returned. "Order what you need. I'll take care of that too"--he was going to repeat "somehow," then caught himself--"as soon as I can," he substituted. The girl looked at him smilingly. "Poor old Harry, henpecked Harry," she bantered gayly. Crossing over, her arms went around his neck. "Have an awful lot of troubles, don't you, professor man!" The argument was irresistible and Randall capitulated. "No, none whatever," he answered, as he was expected to answer; and once more sweet peace rested on the house of Randall.