“Irene, it is my wish that you either remain at home or allow me to be your escort.”
“How you talk! That would be unreasonable, since I have promised the colonel.”
“And you gave your consent without first consulting your husband?”
“Why, yes; I knew you would not think it proper; and you are so taken up with drudgery that you do not seem to care for society, and the colonel really wishes me to go.”
“Are his wishes to be consulted before mine?”
“Why, no; but really, Scott, you are making a great ado about nothing. If you went into society more you would see how very fashionable it is for married ladies to allow gentlemen, not their husbands, to escort them to parties.”
Scott Wilmer folded his arms across his breast, and with his searching hazel eyes fixed upon his wife’s face, he said:
“Irene, if you leave this house to-night with Colonel Brunswick as your escort you do so entirely against my will. I forbid the action.”
She fastened her rich carriage cloak with nervous fingers, but she did not say that she would remain. She was too vain to think of giving up the pleasure of being the chosen one of the handsomest and most stylishly dressed gentleman who would be at the party. She was not possessed of enough depth of character to see how vastly superior was the man before her to the handsome, unscrupulous villain who was to bear her company. She did not realize the full value of the 89 pearl she was casting away, and in her weakness she answered: