When she declared she did not like to talk or hear about business affairs, he would give some biting reply that made her wince, as if struck by a lash. Before, he had always laughed at her indifference, but he suddenly changed, demanding her interest in all kinds of stupid details. She couldn't understand this change in him. She didn't try to understand it. But she felt the unpleasantness of the atmosphere, and vague fears of a coming storm shook her habitual complacency. To night she was more fearful than usual. An hour after dinner-time, and her husband not home! It had happened many times lately, but never without a telephoned excuse. "Why don't you choose the best, the happiest?" The thought brought a little stab from conscience. Perhaps she was not sympathetic enough--perhaps she ought to show more interest in her husband's business, and that made him unlike himself. It was a new thought that brought a doubt of herself. She was accustomed to receive affection and to give it only in return. But now circumstances determined differently. They urged her to take the initiative. This was not easy for her to do, but she longed for the old easy way of loving and spoiling. Perhaps this vague longing and unrest prompted her to surprise her husband to-night, with an extra show of patience and affection. Doubtless he would come home in one of his unattractive moods. A big sigh of relief accompanied her resolve, and she murmured gently, "Will is a good old boy anyway, and has always done everything I wished." That summed up her ideal of a perfect husband. So she concluded to spoil him a little in return. The door opened and Will Lambert entered. Alma started from her nest of cushions. "Why, Will, how pale you are!" she said kindly, holding out both hands as he came towards her. He took them both and put them to his lips. Then he kissed the cherry mouth, raised sweetly to his. "Fatigue and hunger, darling," he said in a weary voice. "Come then to dinner. I have not dined. Just waited and worried over you. Why didn't you telephone?" "I didn't intend to be late. Have been walking the streets for an hour, thinking, thinking, thinking. Forgot the hour entirely!" "Will! Walking the streets! What can possess you!" "An evil spirit doubtless," he returned with a sad attempt to smile. During the meal, his color returned and he talked considerably. But Alma noticed his tone was forced, and his dark deep-set eyes had a new haunted expression. "Where is Harold?" he suddenly asked, looking at the empty chair where their eight year old boy usually sat. "Harold! why Will, dear, what is making you so strange? You know he retires two hours before this." "O yes," he replied absently. "I missed the little fellow--that is all. Never thought about the time." Alma contemplated her husband with a sort of pity. "He's so worn out, he really acts queer," she thought with a new consideration possessing her.