She was sitting up for him, as he knew by the light in the parlor window.  He could see her through the half-closed blinds as she sat by the table, a magazine in her lap, her attitude, unknown to herself, betraying a listless depression.  After all, is a woman glad to have all her aspirations and desires confined within four walls?  She may love her cramped quarters, to be sure, but can she always forget that they are cramped?  To what does a wife descend after the bright dreams of her girlhood!  Does she really like above all things to be absorbed in the daily consumption of butter, and the children’s clothes, or is she absorbed in these things because the man who was to have widened the horizon of her life only limits it by his own decadence?

She rose to meet her husband as she heard his key in the lock.  She had exchanged her evening gown for a loose, trailing white wrapper, and her fair hair was arranged for the night in a long braid.  Her husband had a smile on his face.

“You look like a girl again,” he said brightly, as he stooped and kissed her.  “No, don’t turn out the light, come in and sit down a while longer, I’ve ever so much to tell you.  You can’t guess where I’ve been this evening.”

“At the political meeting,” she said promptly.

“How on earth did you know?”

“The doctor came here to see Willy, and he told me he saw you on the way.  I’m glad you did go, William; I was worrying because I had sent you out; I did not realize until later what a night it was.”

“Well, I am very glad that you did send me,” said her husband.  He lay back in his chair, flushed and smiling at the recollection.  “You ought to have been there, too; you would have liked it.  What will you say if I tell you that I made a speech—­yes, it is quite true—­and was applauded to the echo.  This town has just waked up to the fact that I live in it.  And Henry said—­but there, I’ll have to tell you the whole thing, or you can’t appreciate it.”

His wife leaned on the arm of his chair, watching his animated face fondly, as he recounted the adventures of the night.  He pictured the scene vividly, and with a strong sense of humor.

“And you don’t say that Marie Wakeman is the same as ever?” she interrupted, with a flash of special interest.  “Oh, William!”

“She called me Billy.”  He laughed anew at the thought.  “Upon my word, Nettie, she beats anything I ever saw or heard of.”

“Did she remind you of the time you kissed her?”

“Yes!” Their eyes met in amused recognition of the past.

“Is she as handsome as ever?”

“Um—­yes—­I think so.  She isn’t as pretty as you are.”

“Oh, Will!” She blushed and dimpled.

“I declare, it is true!” He gazed at her with genuine admiration.  “What has come over you to-night, Nettie?—­you look like a girl again.”

“And you were not sorry when you saw her, that—­that—­”