glance at her ruined glove. ``And as if there
weren't ever any perfectly happy marriages--
even if you don't ever hear of them, or read of
them!''

Bertram was not home to luncheon on the day
following the opening night of the Bohemian Ten
Club. A matter of business called him away
from the house early in the morning; but he
told his wife that he surely would be on hand for
Miss Winthrop's call at half-past three o'clock
that afternoon.

``Yes, do,'' Billy had urged. ``I think she's
lovely, but you know her so much better than I
do that I want you here. Besides, you needn't
think _I'm_ going to show her all those Billys of
yours. I may be vain, but I'm not quite vain
enough for that, sir!''

``Don't worry,'' her husband had laughed.
``I'll be here.''

As it chanced, however, something occurred
an hour before half-past three o'clock that drove
every thought of Miss Winthrop's call from
Billy's head.

For three days, now, Pete had been at the home
of his niece in South Boston. He had been forced,