She turned away with a pout and a slight shrug of her pretty shoulders.
"It seems your smiles are for Miss Deane, while your black looks are reserved for your wife," she said.
"I have no interest in Miss Deane," he replied; "it is nothing to me how she behaves, but my wife's conduct is a matter of vital importance; and let me tell you, Zoe, I will have no more such exhibitions as you made of yourself to-night with either Mr. Larned or any other man. I won't allow it. There are some things a man won't put up with. You must and shall show some respect to my wishes in regard to this."
"Orders, you'd better say," she muttered.
"Well, then, orders, if you prefer it."
She was very angry, and withal a good deal frightened.
"Exhibitions indeed!" she cried, sinking into a chair, for she was trembling from head to foot. "What did I do? Why had you any more right to laugh and talk with another woman than I with another man?"
"Laughing and talking may be well enough; but it was more than that; you were actually flirting."
"You call it that just because you are jealous. And if I was, it was your fault—setting me the example by flirting with Miss Deane."
"I did nothing of the kind," he returned haughtily. "I sat beside her against my will, simply because she requested me to go over those sketches and engravings with her. I couldn't in common politeness refuse."