"Well, Mrs. Wellington said we ought to have some place to spoon, and she went away and left us, and—there you stand—and——"
This pierced even the baseball news, and he threw his arms around her with glow of devotion.
She snuggled closer, and cooed: "Aren't we having a nice long engagement? We've traveled a million miles, and the preacher isn't in sight yet. What have you been reading—wedding announcements?"
"No—I was reading about the most wonderful exhibition. Mattie was in the box—and in perfect form."
"Mattie?" Marjorie gasped uneasily.
"Mattie!" he raved, "and in perfect form."
And now the hidden serpent of jealousy, which promised to enliven their future, lifted its head for the first time, and Mallory caught his first glimpse of an unsuspected member of their household. Marjorie demanded with an ominous chill:
"And who's Mattie? Some former sweetheart of yours?"
"My dear," laughed Mallory.
But Marjorie was up and away, with apt temper: "So Mattie was in the box, was she? What is it to you, where she sits? You dare to read about her and rave over her perfect form, while you neglect your wife—or your—oh, what am I, anyway?"