"Was it in the afternoon?" she asked, artfully, assuming an air
of acquaintanceship with the matter.

"Yes, about two or three."

"It must have been Jessica," said Mrs. Hurstwood, not wishing to
seem to attach any importance to the incident.

The physician had a thought or two of his own, but dismissed the
matter as worthy of no further discussion on his part at least.

Mrs. Hurstwood gave this bit of information considerable thought
during the next few hours, and even days. She took it for
granted that the doctor had really seen her husband, and that he
had been riding, most likely, with some other woman, after
announcing himself as BUSY to her. As a consequence, she
recalled, with rising feeling, how often he had refused to go to
places with her, to share in little visits, or, indeed, take part
in any of the social amenities which furnished the diversion of
her existence. He had been seen at the theatre with people whom
he called Moy's friends; now he was seen driving, and, most
likely, would have an excuse for that. Perhaps there were others
of whom she did not hear, or why should he be so busy, so
indifferent, of late? In the last six weeks he had become
strangely irritable--strangely satisfied to pick up and go out,
whether things were right or wrong in the house. Why?

She recalled, with more subtle emotions, that he did not look at
her now with any of the old light of satisfaction or approval in
his eye. Evidently, along with other things, he was taking her