A sudden impulse seized her as Mr. Larned rose and took her hand in greeting, Mrs. Dinsmore being called from the room at the same moment by a servant, who said that some one was waiting in the hall to speak to her.

“I’ll pay Edward back in his own coin,” Zoe said to herself, and Mr. Larned was surprised at the great cordiality and winning sweetness of her manner as she took the vacated seat by his side, then at the spirit and vivacity with which she rattled away to him, now on this theme, now on that.

Excitement lent an unwonted glow to her cheek and brilliancy and sparkle to her always beautiful eyes.

Edward, watching her furtively, with darkening brow, thought he had never seen her so pretty and fascinating, and never had her low soft laugh, as now and again it reached his ear, sounded so silvery sweet and musical, yet it jarred on his nerves, and he would fain have stopped it.

He hoped momentarily that Mr. Larned would go, but he sat on and on the whole evening, Zoe entertaining him all the while.

Other members of the family came in, but though he rose to greet them, he immediately resumed his seat, and she kept hers, even in spite of the frowning looks her husband gave her from time to time, but which she feigned not to see.

At length, his mother perceiving with pain what was going on, managed to release him from Miss Deane, and he at once took a seat on his wife’s other side, and joined in the talk.

Zoe had but little to say after that, and Mr. Larned presently took his departure.

That was a signal for the good-nights, and all scattered to their rooms.

Zoe’s heart quaked as the door of her boudoir closed upon her, shutting her in alone with her irate husband.

She knew that he was angry, more angry with her than he had ever been before, and though in her thoughts she tried to put all the blame on him, conscience told her that she was by no means blameless.

He locked the door, then turned toward her.  She glanced up at him half defiantly, half timidly.  His look was very stern and cold.

She turned away with a pout and a slight shrug of her pretty shoulders.

“It seems your smiles are for Miss Deane, while your black looks are reserved for your wife,” she said.

“I have no interest in Miss Deane,” he replied; “it is nothing to me how she behaves, but my wife’s conduct is a matter of vital importance; and let me tell you, Zoe, I will have no more such exhibitions as you made of yourself to-night with either Mr. Larned or any other man.  I won’t allow it.  There are some things a man won’t put up with.  You must and shall show some respect to my wishes in regard to this.”

“Orders, you’d better say,” she muttered.

“Well, then, orders, if you prefer it.”

She was very angry, and withal a good deal frightened.

“Exhibitions indeed!” she cried, sinking into a chair, for she was trembling from head to foot.  “What did I do?  Why had you any more right to laugh and talk with another woman than I with another man?”