When they were left alone with the dessert, Mary returned to the attack. "You see, lately, Jemmie, you've left me so much alone in the evening that I suppose it's natural for me to sit here and make plans for myself." The husband glanced up sharply: never until now had his wife thrown out a hint that she had noticed his increasingly frequent withdrawals from the fire-side. Could she be jealous? Had any rumor of that phaeton he bought last week reached Mary? Gossip sprung up no one knew how. It might be that one of her friends, one of those confounded women that seemed to spend their lives visiting other women, had warned her to keep an eye on her husband. It would be awkward if Mary seriously intended to press him on the subject of dining out, and, more than dining out, of staying away from home for a couple of nights often enough. Mary herself would never suspect him of infidelity. Infidelity? Bosh! There was nothing serious to it. Maudie did not expect him to face a scandal on her account. He should be middle-aged almost immediately. This was his last love-affair; and dash it, the little girl was fond of him. Who could say why? Women were strange creatures. But it certainly was not for his money. Poor little Maudie! The walnut he was cracking suddenly burst in fragments upon his plate. He looked up guiltily. "What were you saying, dear? I beg your pardon for not answering. I couldn't crack this nut." "I said that it was natural for me to make plans for myself," Mary answered. She perceived that Jemmie was embarrassed and went on more boldly. "I don't in the least expect you to stay at home because I am in the house. But surely you can have no objection to my occupying myself somehow, and this club would be the very thing." "I daresay you're right," said the husband. After all, it was politic to give his wife some latitude. "Yes, I daresay you're right. I was a little taken aback for the moment, and I didn't want you to overtire yourself slaving for people who have no gratitude. You know, the more you do for people, the less they give you in return. Did I tell you about Jackson, our head clerk? We raised his salary last month, and yesterday he calmly tells me that he has accepted another place at a larger salary. What do you think of that? That's gratitude! In my opinion the world's going downhill. Now my father's head clerk stayed with him till he died and never had a rise of salary all the time. Didn't want it. Content. But you don't get that type of man nowadays." Husband and wife rose from their dessert. Husband and wife sat down in the drawing-room. Wife sang "Three Roses" with an obligato of kettle-drums from husband's manipulation of _The Times_. _Just when the red June Roses blow She gave me one,--a year ago, A Rose whose crimson breath revealed The secret that its heart concealed, And whose half-shy, half-tender grace Blushed back upon the giver's face. To hope was not to know._