In the candor of that intimacy she gave me a most unflattering look--a look a woman does well not to cast at a man unless she is more absolutely sure of him than anyone can be of anything in this uncertain world. I laughed as if I thought she meant that look as a jest; I put the look away in my memory with a mark on it that meant “to be taken out and examined at leisure.” But she was absorbed in her chagrin over her social failure; she probably hardly realized I was there. “Well, what’s the next move?” inquired I presently. “You’ve got to help,” replied she--and I knew this was what she had been revolving in her mind all evening. “Anything that doesn’t take me away from business, or keep me up too late to fit myself for the next day.” “Business--always business,” said she, in deepest disgust. “Do you _never_ think of anything else?” “My business and my family--that’s my life,” said I. “Not your family,” replied she. “You care nothing about them.” “Edna,” I said sharply, “that is unjust and untrue.” “Oh, you give them money, if that’s what you mean,” said she disdainfully. “And I give them love,” said I. “The trouble is I give so freely that you don’t value it.” “Oh, you are a good husband,” said she carelessly. “But I want you to take an interest.” “In your social climbing?” “How insulting you are!” she cried, with flashing eyes. “I am trying to claim the position we are entitled to, and you speak of me as if I were one of those vulgar pushers.” “I beg your pardon,” said I humbly. “I was merely joking.” “I’ve often told you that your idea of humor was revolting.” I felt distressed for her in her chagrin and despair. I was ready to bear almost anything she might see fit to inflict. “What do you want me to do?” I asked. “Whatever it is, I’ll do it. Do you need more money?” “I need help--real help,” said she. “Money’s god over the realm of fashion, the same as it is over that of--of religion--of politics--or anything you please. And luckily I’ve got that little god in my employ, my dear.” “If you are so powerful,” said she, “put me into fashionable society--make these people receive me and come to my house.” “But they do,” I reminded her. “I mean _socially_,” cried she. “_Can’t_ I make you understand? Why are business men so dumb at anything else? Compel these people to take me as one of them.” “Now, Edna, my dear,” protested I, “be reasonable. How can I do that?”