“What's the matter?”
“Nothing.”
“You're ill—what is it?”
He grinned sheepishly.
“You couldn't guess now, could you?”
“You haven't been drinking!” she gasped.
“No,” he drawled lazily, “I wouldn't say drinking—I just took one big swallow last night—makes you sleep good when you're tired. Good medicine! I always carry a little with me.”
A sickening wave went over her. Not that she felt that he was going to be a drunkard. But the utter indifference with which he made the announcement was a painful revelation of the fact that her opinion on such a question was not of the slightest importance. That he was now master of the situation he evidently meant that she should see and understand at once.
She refused to accept the humiliating position without a struggle and made up her mind to try at once to mold his character. She would begin by getting him to cut the slang from his conversation.
“You remember the promise you made me one day before we were married, Jim?” she asked brightly.