ever; each was playing a part and dreading lest the other suspect it.
Moreover, Masters was irritated almost beyond endurance at the
constant postponement of the financial equipment for his newspaper.
The man who had promised the largest contribution had died suddenly,
and although his heir was more than eager to be associated with so
illustrious an enterprise he must await the settlement of the estate.

"I am beginning to believe I never shall have that newspaper,"
Masters said gloomily to Madeleine. "It looks like Fate. When the
subject was first broached there was every prospect that I should get
the money at once. It has an ugly look. Any man who has been through
a war is something of a fatalist."

They were less circumspect than of old and were walking out the old
Mission Road. In such moods it was impossible for him to idle before
a fire and read aloud. Madeleine had told her husband she would like
to join Masters in his walks occasionally, and he had replied
heartily: "Do you good. He'll lead you some pretty tramps! I can't
keep up with him. You don't walk half enough. Neither do these other
women, although my income would be cut in half if they did."

It was a cool bracing day without dust or wind and Madeleine had
started out in high spirits, induced in part by a new and vastly
becoming walking suit of forest green poplin and a hat of the same
shade rolled up on one side and trimmed with a drooping grey feather.
Her gloves and shoes were of grey suede, there was soft lace about
her white throat and a coquettish little veil that covered only her
eyes.

She always knew what to say when Masters was in one of his black