But the days went on, and it was easy to see that his business kept Jadwin more and more from his wife. Often now, Corthell knew, he passed the night down town, and upon those occasions when he managed to get home after the day's work, he was exhausted, worn out, and went to bed almost immediately after dinner. More than ever now the artist and Mrs. Jadwin were thrown together. On a certain Sunday evening, the first really hot day of the year, Laura and Page went over to spend an hour with the Cresslers, and--as they were all wont to do in the old days before Laura's marriage--the party "sat out on the front stoop." For a wonder, Jadwin was able to be present. Laura had prevailed upon him to give her this evening and the evening of the following Wednesday--on which latter occasion she had planned that they were to take a long drive in the park in the buggy, just the two of them, as it had been in the days of their courtship. Corthell came to the Cresslers quite as a matter of course. He had dined with the Jadwins at the great North Avenue house and afterwards the three, preferring to walk, had come down to the Cresslers on foot. But evidently the artist was to see but little of Laura Jadwin that evening. She contrived to keep by her husband continually. She even managed to get him away from the others, and the two, leaving the rest upon the steps, sat in the parlour of the Cresslers' house, talking. By and by Laura, full of her projects, exclaimed: "Where shall we go? I thought, perhaps, we would not have dinner at home, but you could come back to the house just a little--a little bit--early, and you could drive me out to the restaurant there in the park, and we could have dinner there, just as though we weren't married just as though we were sweethearts again. Oh, I do hope the weather will be fine." "Oh," answered Jadwin, "you mean Wednesday evening. Dear old girl, honestly, I--I don't believe I can make it after all. You see, Wednesday--" Laura sat suddenly erect. "But you said," she began, her voice faltering a little, "you said--" "Honey, I know I did, but you must let me off this time again." She did not answer. It was too dark for him to see her face; but, uneasy at her silence, he began an elaborate explanation. Laura, however, interrupted. Calmly enough, she said: "Oh, that's all right. No, no, I don't mind. Of course, if you are busy." "Well, you see, don't you, old girl?" "Oh, yes, yes, I see," she answered. She rose. "I think," she said, "we had better be going home. Don't you?" "Yes, I do," he assented. "I'm pretty tired myself. I've had a hard day's work. I'm thirsty, too," he added, as he got up. "Would you like to have a drink of water, too?" She shook her head, and while he disappeared in the direction of the Cresslers' dining-room, she stood alone a moment in the darkened room looking out into the street. She felt that her cheeks were hot. Her hands, hanging at her sides, shut themselves into tight fists.