water. Then in a voice she hardly recognized as her own she asked again, to be sure she was not mistaken, "So—so you are not unhappily married at all?"
"Becky," replied Chadwick Booth, "there are not many Robert-and-Elizabeth-Browning marriages in the world. You'll find that out for yourself, some day, poor girl, I suppose. It's in friendships, comradeships, such as ours where you'll find most of what you call happiness. For we meet for no other reason than for happiness' sake. You and I have nothing to haggle over, and argue about. That's the beauty of it. No furnace, nor hot-water system that you've got to heckle me to attend to. No children's education to discuss, and disagree upon. Nothing of that sort." Then abruptly he broke off. "Come, let's not lose this. It's a waltz."
Reba shook her head. "No—no—please—not now. I'd rather not dance just now."
Chadwick Booth frowned, and an expression of annoyance crossed his features.
"Look here, you aren't going to be absurd, are you?"
"No," she assured him. "No, I'm not. Only—I'd really like to finish this." And she nodded down at the tongue-biting stuffed tomato on her plate.
The frown on Chadwick Booth's face deepened as he suspiciously surveyed Reba. Then briefly to the waiter, "Bring me another cocktail," he said.
Reba had never seen Chadwick Booth annoyed with her before. But he was now. She was sure of it. She had observed that look on his face when waiters in restaurants failed to please him. But what could she do? What could she say? She pecked at the tomato before her, once or twice, then frankly gave it up. She
