“I wish, Madge, you would telephone Miss Draper and ask her to run over tomorrow and see the room.  You see, I was so anxious to surprise you that I did not want to have you do any of the work, and she kindly did all of this needlework for me.  I know she is very curious to see how her work looks.”

“Of course, I will telephone Miss Draper if you wish it, Dicky, but don’t you think you ought to do it yourself?  She is your employee, not mine, and I never have seen her but twice in my life.”

I flatter myself that my voice was as calm as if I had not the slightest emotional interest in the topic I was discussing.  But in reality I was furiously angry.  And I felt that I had reason to be.

“Now, that’s a nice, catty thing to say!” Dicky exploded wrathfully.  “Hope you feel better, now you’ve got it off your chest.  And you can just trot right along and telephone her yourself.  Gee! you haven’t been a martyr for months, have you?”

When Dicky takes that cutting, ironical tone, it fairly maddens me.  I could not trust myself to speak, so I turned quickly and went out of the room which had become suddenly hateful to me, and found refuge in my own.

My exit was not so swift, however, but that I overheard words of my mother-in-law’s, which were to remain in my mind.

“Richard,” she exclaimed angrily, “you ought to be ashamed of yourself.  You act like a silly fool over this model of yours.  What business did you have asking her to do this needlework for you in the first place?  You ought to have known Margaret would not like it.”

I did not hear Dicky’s reply, for I had reached my own room, and, closing and locking the door, I sat down by the window until I should be able to control my words and actions.

For one thing I had determined.  I would not have a repetition of the scenes which Dicky’s temper and my own sensitiveness had made of almost daily occurrence in the earlier months of our marriage.  I could not bring myself to treat Grace Draper with the friendliness which Dicky appeared to wish from me, but at least I could keep from unseemly squabbling about her.

But my heart was heavy with misgiving concerning this friendship of Dicky’s for his beautiful model, as I opened my door and went down the hall to Dicky’s room.  My mother-in-law’s voice interrupted me.

“Come in here a minute,” she said abruptly, as she trailed her flowing negligee past me into the living room.

As I followed her in, wondering, she closed the door behind her.  I saw with amazement that her face was pale, her lips quivering with emotion.

“Child,” she said, laying her hand with unwonted gentleness on my shoulder.  “I want you to know that I entirely disapprove of this invitation which Richard has asked you to extend.  Of course, you must use your own judgment in the matter, and it may be wise for you to do as he asks.  But I want to be sure that you are not influenced by anything I may have said in the past about not opposing Richard in his whims.