by supposing me to be a gentleman."

"It seems as if I couldn't say anything right," said Henry.

"I think you do talk a little strangely," she admitted, with a faint
smile. Her look was quite like that of an uncomplaining martyr.

"What's the matter with you to-night, Madeline? Tell me, for God's sake!"
he cried, overcome with sudden grief and alarm.

"I thought I told you I had a headache, and I really wish you wouldn't
use profane language," she replied, regarding him with lack-lustre eyes.

"And that's all? It's only a headache?"

"That's quite enough, I'm sure. Would you like me to have toothache
besides?"

"You know I didn't mean that."

"Well, earache, then?" she said, wearily, allowing her head to rest back
on the top of her chair, as if it were too much of an effort to hold it
up, and half shutting her eyes.

"Excuse me, I ought not to have kept you. I'll go now.'

"Don't hurry," she observed, languidly.

"I hope you'll feel better in the morning."