“I haven’t seen Captain Nichols here lately,” Calhoun-Cooper tore a fragment of a letter into long pieces and tossed them into the scrap basket. “Do you know why he has stopped coming to see us?” “I haven’t the faintest idea,” answered his wife candidly. “Unless Pauline has--has not encouraged his attentions.” “I did not know----” he broke off abruptly. “Tell me, Augusta, have you been supplying Joe with money lately?” “I? Oh, dear no,” but her eyes fell before his, and his face grew graver. “What made you think such a thing?” “It has happened before,” dryly. “I shall be exceedingly displeased if you are giving Joe money. I cut down his allowance with very good reason.” “I believe you actually begrudge Joe money,” she put in passionately. “For shame, as wealthy as you are----” “It is not a matter of wealth, but of principle,” sternly. “Under the plea of his supposed constitutional lung weakness you have over-indulged Joe. It’s greatly my fault,” as his wife’s sobs increased. “I gave too much time to my business and trusted to incompetent tutors. Joe has two more years to toe the mark, and in that time his character must be formed, otherwise he will go to the bad utterly. I hope you have never disobeyed my injunction against informing him of his prospective inheritance by the terms of my father’s will?” “Do you take me for a fool?” she asked sharply, and changed the subject. “I must say, John, your father was very remiss not to leave a like amount to Pauline, she bitterly resents Joe’s getting all that money.” “So you have told Pauline?” Her husband’s eyes kindled in wrath. “Well, upon my word! Will you never learn discretion?” Mrs. Calhoun-Cooper promptly took refuge behind more tears, a bulwark which usually never failed her; but her husband was too indignant to pay heed to her emotion, and continued sternly: “I trust you informed Pauline that I would amply provide for her?” renewed sobbing was his only reply. “I have told you before, Augusta, that I do not approve of the partiality you show Joe; it is most unfair to Pauline, and causes constant dissension and unhappiness. It must stop.” “I’m sure I grant Pauline’s every wish,” exclaimed his wife, much aggrieved. “She has her own way, and plenty of clothes, jewels----” “Speaking of jewels,” broke in Calhoun-Cooper. “What has become of the emerald and diamond bracelet, which formerly belonged to my mother, the one I gave Pauline on her coming out? I haven’t seen her wear it lately?” His wife gulped back a sob, and wiped her eyes with a damp handkerchief. She also had missed the bracelet, and she had last seen it in Joe’s hand, Pauline having carelessly left it on her mother’s dressing table the night of their large dinner dance. Joe had admitted its beauty just before he went downstairs to assist his sister in welcoming their guests.