dismay. Joy was the stronger, however. Dear old Jack was safe at home.
But there were adjustments which I must make. I had my marriage to
explain to Jack, and Jack to explain to Dicky. Nothing but this letter
could have so revealed to me the strength of the infatuation for Dicky
which had swept me off my feet and resulted in my marriage after only
a six months' acquaintance. Reading it I realized that the memory of
Jack had been so pushed into the background during the past six months
that I never had thought to tell Dicky about him.

"You've made a great conquest," said Dicky that evening when we were
finishing dinner, "Lil thinks you're about the nicest little piece of
calico she has ever measured--those were her own words. She's planning
a frolic for the crowd some night at your convenience."

"That is awfully kind of her. Where did you see her." I prided myself
on my careless tone, but Dicky gave me a shrewd glance.

"Why, at the studio, of course. Her studio is on the same floor as
mine, you know. Atwood and Barker and she and I are all on one floor,
and we often have a dish of tea together when we are not rushed."

I busied myself with the coffee machine until I could control my
voice. How I hated these glimpses of the intimate friendship which
must exist between my husband and this woman!

"I suppose we ought to have them all over some night," I said at last,
"but I'll have to add a few things to our equipment, and wait until I
get a maid."

"That will be fine," Dicky assented cordially, pushing back his chair.