He lifted his drooping head. Sadly, longingly,
he looked at her. The unerring instinct of true love encouraged his
wife to speak to him.
"I wish I could relieve your anxieties," she said simply. "Is there
nothing I can do to help you?"
"Come here, Iris."
She rose and approached him. In the past days of the honeymoon and its
sweet familiarities, he had sometimes taken her on his knee. He took
her on his knee now, and put his arm round her. "Kiss me," he said.
With all her heart she kissed him. He sighed heavily; his eyes rested
on her with a trustful appealing look which she had never observed in
them before.
"Why do you hesitate to confide in me?" she asked. "Dear Harry, do you
think I don't see that something troubles you?"
"Yes," he said, "there is something that I regret."
"What is it?"
"Iris," he answered, "I am sorry I asked Vimpany to come back to us."
At that unexpected confession, a bright flush of joy and pride
overspread his wife's face. Again, the unerring instinct of love guided
her to discovery of the truth. The opinion of his wicked friend must
have been accidentally justified, at the secret interview of that day,
by the friend himself! In tempting her husband, Vimpany had said
something which must have shocked and offended him.
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