turned a pleading look toward him; "don't say anything we may
both regret. You know how good Sanford is to me; you know how
happy we are together"

"Were," he corrected, very gravely.

"Were--and are," she insisted. "And you know, too--no one
better--what a fiendish temper I have! Though I try my best to
control it, it breaks out now and then, and I am helpless.
Sanford thinks he can tame it by giving me as good as I send
--by playing, as he calls it, Petruchio to my Katherine--but,
somehow, I don't believe that's the treatment I need."

Her dark eyes were wistful, but she did not look at him.

"Of course it isn't!" Elliott returned, in a low voice. "I know
your nature, Eunice; I've known it all our lives. You need
kindness when you are in a tantrum. The outbursts of temper you
cannot help--that I know positively--they're an integral part of
your nature. But they're soon over--often the fiercer they are,
the quicker they pass,--and if you were gently managed, not
brutally, at the time they occur, it would go far to help you to
overcome them entirely. But--and I ask you again--what were you
discussing to-day when I came?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"I think I do know--and forgive me, if I offend you--I think I
can help you."