She heard her husband enter and come up-stairs. Quickly finishing her toilet, she hurried down to arrange the flowers, for they were alone that night. The telephone rang. She knew it would ring up-stairs in his room, but she usually answered it for he disliked to. She raised the receiver and started to speak when she realized that she had broken into the midst of a conversation.
"--committee won't meet tonight, Harry."
"So? All right. Anything on?"
"Yes--big spree at Nell's. Will you go?"
"Sure thing; you know me! What time?"
"Meet us at the Willard by nine. S'long."
"Good-bye."
She slowly, half guiltily, replaced the receiver. She had not meant to listen, but now to her desperate longing to keep him home was added a new motive. Where was "Nell's"? What was "Nell's"? What was--and there was fear in her heart. At dinner she tried all her powers on him. She had his favorite dishes; she mixed his salad and selected his wine; she talked interestingly, and listened sympathetically, to him. He looked at her with more attention. Her cheeks were more brilliant, for she had touched them with rouge. Her eyes flashed; but he glanced furtively at her short hair. She saw the act; but still she strove until he was content and laughing; then coming round back of his chair, she placed her arms about his neck.
"Harry, will you do me a favor?"
"Why, yes--if--"
"It is something I want very, very much."
"Well, all right, if--"
"Harry, I feel a little--hysterical, tonight, and--you will not refuse me, will you, Harry?"
Standing there, she saw the tableau in her own mind, and it looked strange. She was afraid of herself. She knew that she would do something foolish if she did not win this battle. She felt that overpowering fanaticism back within her raging restlessly. If she was not careful-"But what is it you want?" asked her husband.
"I don't want you to go out tonight."
He laughed awkwardly.
"Nonsense, girl! The sub-committee on the cotton schedule meets tonight--very important; otherwise--"
She shuddered at the smooth lie and clasped him closer, putting her cheek to his.
"Harry," she pleaded, "just this once--for me."
He disengaged himself, half impatiently, and rose, glancing at the clock. It was nearly nine. A feeling of desperation came over her.
"Harry," she asked again as he slipped on his coat.
"Don't be foolish," he growled.
"Just this once--Harry--I--" But the door banged to, and he was gone.
She stood looking at the closed door a moment. Something in her head was ready to snap. She went to the rack and taking his long heavy overcoat slipped it on. It nearly touched the floor. She seized a soft broad-brimmed hat and umbrella and walked out. Just what she meant to do she did not know, but somehow she must save her husband and herself from evil. She hurried to the Willard Hotel and watched, walking up and down the opposite sidewalk. A woman brushed by her and looked her in the face.