isn't, Oliver," and suddenly, because I couldn't bear to see Oliver unhappy and despairing, because my voice was trembling and there were tears in my eyes, I went quickly out of the room and upstairs.
I was surprised on passing the guest-room to hear muffled sobs. I stopped and listened, and then, quite sure, I abruptly knocked and immediately opened the door. I was amazed to discover Madge face downward on the bed in tears.
"Why, what's the matter?" I exclaimed. I had never seen anything but arch glances in her eyes before.
"I want to go home! I want to go home! They're not ashamed of me at home!" she wailed.
I closed the door and went over to her.
"I just hate it here, I just hate it!" she went on. "Oliver thought I was good enough at home." She was crying all the time and each sentence came brokenly. "Oh, I wish I'd never heard of Oliver Vars," she choked. "I've tried and tried to be like his folks but he finds fault with every single thing I do, or wear, or say, or think, and I'm going home. I think his people are all stuck-up, horrid old things anyway and I just hate it, hate it, hate it here. Oh, go away, go away!" she cried out at me in a torrent of sobs.
Instead I sat down beside her.
"Look here, Madge," I said sternly. "Stop talking like that. Stop it. You can't go home. Don't you know you're married? Why, it's perfectly absurd!"
The sobbing stopped suddenly and she lay still with her nose buried in the down comforter. I went on
