"Sorry to disappoint you," said Ellis, firmly. "But, when I once get
my mind fixed on a thing, I am hard to change."

"Perhaps your wife may have some engagement on hand, for the
evening, or be disinclined for reading. What then?"

"You will see me at your room," was the prompt answer of Ellis; and
the words were uttered with more feeling than he had intended to
exhibit. The very question brought unpleasant images before his
mind.

"I shall look for you," said the friend, whose name was Jerome. Good
evening!"

"Good evening! Say to your friends, if I should not be there, that I
am in better company."

The two men parted, and Ellis kept on his way homeward. Not until
the suggestion of Jerome that his wife might be disinclined to hear
him read, did a remembrance of Cara's uncertain temper throw a shade
across his feelings. He sighed as he moved onward.

"I wish she were kinder and more considerate," he said to himself.
"I know that I don't always do right; yet, I am not by any means so
bad as she sometimes makes me out. To any thing reasonable, I am
always ready to yield. But when she frowns if I light a cigar; and
calls me a tippler whenever she detects the smell of brandy and
water, I grow angry and stubborn. Ah, me!"

Ellis sighed heavily. A little way he walked on, and then began