For supper the party went with Nelson. The gayety of the others left Alice cold. Nelson, with the art of the practised entertainer, urged the eating and drinking, and when the party left the buzzing café some of them were heated and unrestrained. At two o'clock, Alice with her husband and Fritzie reached their apartment, and Alice, very tired, went directly to her own rooms. MacBirney came in, somewhat out of humor. "What's the matter with you to-night?" he demanded. Alice had dismissed Annie and her husband sat down beside her table.
"With me? Nothing, Walter; why?"
"You acted so cattish all the evening," he complained, with an irritating little oath.
Alice was in no mood to help him along. "How so?" she asked tying her hair as she turned to look at him.
An inelegant exclamation annoyed her further. "You know what I mean just as well as I do," he went on curtly. "You never opened your mouth the whole evening. Lottie asked me what the matter was with you----"
Alice repeated but one word of the complaining sentence. "Lottie!" she echoed. Her husband's anger grew. "If Lottie would talk less," continued Alice quietly, "and drink less, I should be less ashamed to be seen with her. And perhaps I could talk more myself."
"You never did like anybody that liked me. So it is Lottie you're jealous of?"
"No, not 'jealous of,' only ashamed of. Even at the dinner she was scandalous, I thought."
Her husband regarded her with stubborn contempt, and it hurt. "You are very high and mighty to-night. I wonder," he said with a scarcely concealed sneer, "whether prosperity has turned your head."
"You need not look at me in that way, Walter, and you need not taunt me."