his seat with a moody expression. His thoughts were not pleasant ones.
Since the early part of the year he and his wife had been gradually
drifting apart, and even when they were together at theatres or
luxurious cafes, spending money like water, there had been a restraint
between them. Of late Diane's fits of temper had become more frequent,
and only yielded to a handful of gold or notes. Jack had sought his own
amusements and left her much alone--more than was good for her, he now
reflected uneasily. Yet he had the utmost confidence in her still, and
not a shadow of suspicion had crossed his mind. He believed that his
honor was safe in her care.

"I have wished a thousand times that I had never married," he said to
himself, "but it is too late for that now. I must make the best of it.
I still love Diane, and I don't believe she has ceased to care for me.
Poor little girl! Perhaps she feels my neglect, and is too proud to own
it. I was ready enough to cut work and spend money. Yes, it has been my
fault. I'll go to her to-night and tell her that. I'll ask her to move
back to our old lodgings, where we were so happy. And then I'll turn
over that new leaf--"

"What's wrong with you, my boy?" broke in Victor Nevill. "Have you been
dreaming?"

"I am going home," said Jack, rising. "It will be a pleasant surprise
for Diane."

Nevill looked at him curiously, then laughed. He took out his watch.

"Have another drink," he urged. "We part to-night--who knows when we
will meet again? And it is only half-past eleven."