Thorne, conscious that the present position of matters between them, as well as the past unhappiness, was quite as much her fault as his, and the act of separation more so—­he having been the passive and consenting party, did not consider it specially incumbent on him to make things easy for his wife.  In his irritation and disgust at her heartless selfishness, he half determined to make them very much the reverse.  He was not surprised at his wife’s communication; he knew perfectly well that she would seek a divorce sooner or later, as the liberality of the world in such matters made it natural that she should do.  He also knew that it was the larger command of the income which he had allowed her for his child’s sake, combined with the lack of strong personal motive, which had prevented her from getting a divorce before.  Her letter irritated him, not because she desired to break the shadowy bonds which still held her, but because he had behaved well to her, and she had taken it as her right with careless ingratitude.  What he had done, he had done for his son’s sake, but he was none the less provoked that Ethel had failed of appreciation and acknowledgment.

“Read that!” he said, and tossed the letter into Norma’s lap.  While she was doing so, he broke the seal of the other letter which proved to be a communication from a firm of solicitors in a small town in Illinois, in whose hands Mrs. Thorne had placed her case.  It was delicately and ambiguously worded, as became the nature of the business, and contained simply a courteous notification of their client’s intentions.

Norma had been prepared for Mrs. Thorne’s letter by that of her friend Mrs. Vincent; and perhaps also by a secret hope on which she had fed for years—­a hope that this would happen.  She read the letter therefore without emotion, and returned it without comment.

“Well?” he queried impatiently.

“Well!” she echoed.

“What do you think of it?”

“I think that Mrs. Thorne wishes to marry again.”

“No!—­do you?” The tone was thoughtful; the interrogation delivered slowly.  The idea was a new one, and it put a different complexion upon the matter, because of the child; there were still several years during which the personal custody of the boy was the mother’s of right.  It behooved him to look into this matter more closely.

“Yes, I’m sure of it,” responded Norma; “it’s town talk.  See what Kate Vincent says about it.”

She handed him her letter folded down at this paragraph:  “People have been mildly excited, and the gossips’ tongues set wagging by a rumor which floated down from the Adirondacks last summer, and has been gaining body and substance ever since.  You remember how Cecil Cumberland philandered after a certain lady of our acquaintance last winter, and how unremitting were his attentions?  Friendship, my dear!  Harmless friendship on a pure platonic platform; you