Making People Happy

imself in touch once again with the humdrum facts of existence. Then, when his brain cleared from the lethargy imposed by the strain to which it had so recently been subjected, he gave a

began scrawling figures at the full speed of his pencil. And, as he w

about to fall. The eyes of amber, usually so deep and radiant, were dulled now, as if by many tears; the rich scarlet of the lips' curves was bent downward mournfully. She stood just within the doorway for a brief space, watching intently the man who was so busy over his scrawled figures. At last, she ventured forward, wa

y softly, for she understood instinctively so

ted as the familiar music of Cicil

ess. His eyes went out to the array of figures th

her intention by such indifference on his part

d you come o

ently, this persistence was a distracting influence-a dis

savage rapidity of utterance: "And I can lick Carrington any day in the week. Why, I've already put him out. It's Morton-that old fox Morton who's got me guessing.... What do you think?

exclaimed, astonished and angry. "But you own the Hamilton f

lent for a moment. When he spoke again, the liveliness was gone from his voice: it was become quietly patronizin

icily answered, with a not

ire to share in this phase of his life. But he looked up from the papers after a moment into his wife's face. She had turned from him, and then had reclined wearily in the chair opposite h

uestioned. He was half-sympathetic ov

was acutely conscious of the annoyance; she ignored the modicum of sympathy. To conceal her hurt, she had resort to a

n assumption of surprise. "Why, the matter

husband was both shocked and

ng girl repeated. "Why, I'm so happ

scrutinizingly. He was filled with alarm over the nervous

re was a distinct quaver of fear in h

t you haven't really taken a good look at me lately-until ju

ion whatsoever as to any culpability on his part in his relations with his wife: thus it was that now h

morning, last night-oh, h

r mind, your heart, your soul-the true you

affairs. He gazed on his wife in puzzled fashion for a few seconds, then abandoned the problem as one altogether beyond his solv

want a new automo

and for once the musical voice wa

zed, as, indeed, was but natural before a confession s

the manner in which the man shrank under her declaration. But he said nothing as she paused:

grope in mental blackness for some ray of understanding a

y, at last. Of a sudden, a gust of fury shook him. "God

own torment, with no sentiment to spare for the temporary anguish she w

answered, coldly. "That was

ching. The pallor of her face was a little more pronounced than usual, less touched from within with the hue of abounding health, and her crimson mouth was less tender than it was wont to be. But she leaned

Cicily! What madness! You know-oh, absurd! Why,

contemptuously, "You think of me alwa

cil

, in answer to Hamilton's look of

a great dread fell on his soul, "

tone was icy; the gaze fixed

traged. His voice was low when he spoke again, yet in it was a quality that the young wife had never

to me, Cicily. It is an insu

d carried the war in this direction

Then, as Hamilton regarded her with a face blankly uncomprehending, she went on rapidly, with something of the venomous in her voice: "Sometimes, I wish you were. Then, I'd fig

toward the tele

, not the automobile," he

it's the lure of the game-the great, horrid, hideous business game, which has got you, just as it's got most of the American husbands who are worth having. That's the lure

in bewilderment, as he again seated himself in the chair opposite his wife. He could think of nothing with which to r

ook out for, Cicily. That's a wom

ell. You don't really depend on us for anything in the home. Your lives are full up with interest; every second is occupied. Our lives are empty. My life is empty, Charles. I'm lonely, and heart-hungry, I've no ambition to go in for bridge. I'm not a gambler by choice. I don't wish to follow society as a vocation. I'm not eager even to be a suffragette. I want to be an old-fashioned wife-to do something that counts in my husband'

satisfaction at the mill-danger of a strike. Morton is heading a syndicate-a trust, really-trying to absorb us.

No; I want t

queried, astounded. "Y

of the golden eyes, as they met those of her husband; there was intensity of conviction in the tones of h

conviction as uncompromising as her own. The egotism of it repelled

You're making a plaything of me-not a wi

mea

moment of our married life. If you put me off now, if you shut me out of

being of the man, readied his heart, and touched it to sympathy-more: it mounted to his brain, which it stimulated to some measure of understanding. That understanding was fleeting enough, it

ll. You

ance of her eyes grew tender; the scarlet lips wreathed in their happiest curves. At last, she rose swiftly, and seated her

ertain complacency as the tribute of gratitude to his generosity. But, when she separated herself aga

you do?" h

something. I shall do something big! You see, you've d

nd questioned, perplexed anew by

e the happiest woman in the world-a partner!" Again, the rounded arm

listened, stupid, bemused, to that word echoing wildly through his brain: "Partner!" He u