Discord had slowly grown as his fame increased. His wife was now
jealous of almost every woman who spoke to him.

They had quarreled before, but he had always kept a clear head
and laughed her out of countenance. These quarrels had ended with
tears and kisses and were forgotten until the next.

To-night somehow every thrust found his most sensitive spots. He
wondered why? Dimly conscious of a curious interest in the woman
who had spoken so sweetly to him at the close of his service, he
wondered if his wife divined the fact by some subtle power their
long association had developed and sharpened.

His enthusiasm for the Socialistic ideal was fast becoming an
absorbing passion, and was destined to lead him into strange company.

His wife felt this, resented it, and, becoming more and more
conservative, the gulf between them daily widened and deepened.

He cared nothing for her ridicule of his blond locks. He wore them
half in defiance of conventionality and half in whimsical love for
the picture of a beautiful mother from whom he had inherited them.

"What could have possessed her to-night?" he slowly muttered as he
emerged from Central Park and swung into Fifth Avenue. "Am I really
losing my grasp of truth because I am giving up traditional dogmas?
Has God given to her soul the power to look inside my heart and
find its secret thoughts? Why does she keep asking me if I have
lost faith in marriage? Never in word or deed have I hinted at such
a thing."