lounge and with fresh courage covered her hand firmly with his own.
"See--I am sensible," he smiled--"we understand each other, I think.
Tell me what has happened."

"Sam," she murmured faintly, freeing her hand--"Sam has dared to treat
me like--like a child."

"You! I don't believe it--you? Nonsense, dear friend."

"You must help me," she returned in a vain effort to keep back the
tears.

"Has he been brutal to you?--jealous?--impossible!" and a certain
query gleamed in his eyes.

"Yes, brutal enough. I never believed him capable of it."

"I believe you, but it seems strange--psychologically impossible.
Why, he's not that kind of a man."

Alice slipped her hand beneath a cushion, drew forth her husband's
note and gave it to him.

"Read that," she said, gazing doggedly into the fire, her chin in her
hands.

"'I may pass the summer in the woods'"--he read. "'Make no
arrangements--' Well, what of it?" This came with a breath of relief.
Alice raised her head wearily.