He came lightly in, thinking to smooth over any feeling that might still exist by a kindly word and a ready promise, but Mrs. Hurstwood said nothing.  He seated himself in the large chair, stirred lightly in making himself comfortable, opened his paper, and began to read.  In a few moments he was smiling merrily over a very comical account of a baseball game which had taken place between the Chicago and Detroit teams.

The while he was doing this Mrs. Hurstwood was observing him casually through the medium of the mirror which was before her.  She noticed his pleasant and contented manner, his airy grace and smiling humor, and it merely aggravated her the more.  She wondered how he could think to carry himself so in her presence after the cynicism, indifference, and neglect he had heretofore manifested and would continue to manifest so long as she would endure it.  She thought how she should like to tell him—­what stress and emphasis she would lend her assertions, how she should drive over this whole affair until satisfaction should be rendered her.  Indeed, the shining sword of her wrath was but weakly suspended by a thread of thought.

In the meanwhile Hurstwood encountered a humorous item concerning a stranger who had arrived in the city and became entangled with a bunco-steerer.  It amused him immensely, and at last he stirred and chuckled to himself.  He wished that he might enlist his wife’s attention and read it to her.

“Ha, ha,” he exclaimed softly, as if to himself, “that’s funny.”

Mrs. Hurstwood kept on arranging her hair, not so much as deigning a glance.

He stirred again and went on to another subject.  At last he felt as if his good-humor must find some outlet.  Julia was probably still out of humor over that affair of this morning, but that could easily be straightened.  As a matter of fact, she was in the wrong, but he didn’t care.  She could go to Waukesha right away if she wanted to.  The sooner the better.  He would tell her that as soon as he got a chance, and the whole thing would blow over.

“Did you notice,” he said, at last, breaking forth concerning another item which he had found, “that they have entered suit to compel the Illinois Central to get off the lake front, Julia?” he asked.

She could scarcely force herself to answer, but managed to say “No,” sharply.

Hurstwood pricked up his ears.  There was a note in her voice which vibrated keenly.

“It would be a good thing if they did,” he went on, half to himself, half to her, though he felt that something was amiss in that quarter.  He withdrew his attention to his paper very circumspectly, listening mentally for the little sounds which should show him what was on foot.