"And what do you do, then?"

"Nothing at all but try to make his home as pleasant as possible, and when
he is weary of his gay companions he will return to me with more interest."

"Well, well," broke in her visitor; "Morgan can make up his mind to a very
different state of things. I shall stipulate, first of all, that he must
give up that abominable club-house."

"And do you intend to lay your flirting propensities on the same altar of
mutual happiness?"

Willis did not hear the reply, for he stole softly away, annoyed, as he
thought, at having been a listener to what was not intended for his ears.
But there was a little sting of self-reproach at his selfish desertion of
home, and, more than all, that Catherine should have been blamed for
offences that any one who had known her would never have attributed to her.

"Ah, by the way, Kate," he said that evening, turning suddenly, as she
stood arranging her work-table beneath the gas light, "how about that
invitation to Mrs. Sawyer's? It was for to-night, if I recollect?"

"I sent regrets, of course, as you expressed no wish to go; and, to tell
the truth, I would much rather pass the evening quietly here with you. How
long it is since we have had one of those nice old-fashioned chats! Not
since baby has been my companion."

This was said in a cheerful tone, as a reminiscence, not as a reproach; and
yet Willis felt the morning's uncomfortable sensations return, though he
tried to dispel them by stooping to kiss her forehead. Nevertheless, he