breezily, a cheque. He would see her no more, God be thanked! When he
came home that evening his place would be his own, his wife his own,
the baby their own; there would be no stranger intruding upon their
snug intimacy.

Osborn's heart was light when, at six o'clock, he put his latchkey
into the keyhole and entered; he gave the long, low coo-ee which
recalled old glad days, and Marie emerged from the kitchen, finger on
mouth.

"Hush, don't wake him!"

"Is he in bed?"

"Nurse stayed to put him to bed before she left."

Osborn embraced her. "We're alone at last, hurrah!"

"Will you help me?" said Marie. "I'm so tired."

"Course I'll help you, little dear," he replied tenderly. "We'll do
everything together, just as we used to."

"Osborn," said Marie suddenly, "that's the whole secret of married
life, to do everything together, nice things and nasty things."

"Of course, darling. We do, don't we?"

"I suppose we do," she answered doubtfully; "at least there are some
things a man doesn't share because he can't."