short-very short-frilled petticoat, something like the "Bloomer" costume, only several degrees more "mannish" in make. I stared at her open-mouthed and utterly dismayed; so much so that I was speechless for the moment.

"My shooting costume," she explained cheerfully. "It's such a comfort to travel in, and no one sees under my ulster!"

"Would you care if any one did see, Honoria?” I inquired coldly.

"No, I don't suppose I should," she answered gaily, ruffling up her curls with one hand. "Well, Willie, as I said before, you look fit! Had a good time at Cromer? and are you glad to see me back again?"

"Of course, Honoria," I replied in the same quietly unmoved tone; "of course I am glad to see you, but— well, we will talk over things presently. Supper is ready, I believe; will you not change your-your--”

And I pointed to the knickerbockers with, I think, rather a sarcastical expression on my countenance. She flushed just a little; it must have been my glance that confused her for an instant; then, I suppose, a devil of mischief entered into her and made her obstinate.

"No, what's the good of changing; such a bother!" she answered. "Besides, I'm as hungry as a hunter; I'll sit down to supper as I am. Awfully comfortable, you know!"

"Honoria!" I said with a sort of desperate politeness, "you must really pardon me! I refuse-I utterly refuse to sit at table with you in that costume! Do you want the very servants to giggle at you all through the meal?"

"They may giggle if they like," she replied imperturbably; "their giggles won't hurt me, I assure you!" "Honoria!" and I spoke with deliberate gentleness and gravity. "Will you oblige me by changing those masculine habiliments of yours, and dressing like a lady?"

She looked at me, laughed, and her eyes flashed. "No, I won't!" she said curtly.

I bowed; then quietly turned round and left the room, and not only the room but the house. I went to my club and supped there, needless to say, with no enjoyment whatever, and with no heart to enter into conversation with any of my friends. I think most of them must have seen I was seriously put out, for they left me pretty much alone, and I was able to take counsel with myself as to what I should do next. I returned home late, and retired to a separate apartment, so that I saw no more of Honoria till the next morning, when she came down to breakfast in her smoking-suit, i.e., the same sort of skirt and large-patterned man's jacket she had surprised me with on the evening of our marriage day. I studied her attentively. Her skin, which had

recently been exposed so ruthlessly to the sun and wind on the grouse moors, was beginning to look rough and coarse; her eyes had a bold, hard, indifferent expression; her very hand, as she poured out the tea, was red and veiny, like that of a man accustomed to rough weather, and I realized with immense regret that her beauty would soon be a thing of the past; that it was even possible she might become positively ugly in an incredibly short time if she continued (as it was pretty evident she would continue) her masculine mode of life. It was she who first began the conversation that morning. "Got over your temper, Willie? Do you know you're becoming a perfect demon?"

"Am I?" I said patiently. "I'm sorry, Honoria; I used to be considered a good-natured fool enough, but I've had a great deal to vex me lately, and I fancy you know the cause of my vexation."

"Yes," she answered indifferently, helping both me and herself to toast as she spoke; "I know, but I've settled all that. I never take long making up my mind! We must part-that's about the long and the short of the matter. We can't work together-it's no use, oars won't pull evenly-we shall only upset the boat. It's easily done have an agreement drawn up as they do for house leases, sign it before witnesses, and we splitquite amicably-no fuss. And that will leave me free and comfortable for my lecturing tour,"

"Your lecturing tour!" I echoed, forgetting for a moment my own annoyances in the fresh surprise of this announcement. "Are you going a-lecturing, Honoria?" and despite my wish to be gentle, I am aware my voice was decidedly sarcastic in its inflection. "What on, pray? Politics or temperance? Do you like the idea of becoming a platform woman?"

"As well be a platform woman as a platform man,” she replied with a touch of defiance. "I've got a good voice-better than most men's-and I've heaps to say. I met a Mr. Sharp down at Glen Ruach; he's an agent for that sort of thing-farmed out lots of lecturers both here and in the States; he's agreed to farm out me. Good terms too; he says he knows I'll 'draw' immensely. All expenses paid-in fact, you needn't bother about making me any allowance unless you want to for form's sake-I can earn my own living comfortably."

"Has he heard you lecture?" I inquired, ignoring this independent latter part of her speech. "Is he acquainted with your capabilities in that line?"

She smiled-a wide hard smile.

"Rather; I gave them all a taste of my quality down at Glen Ruach-lectured on Man-and I thought Sharp would have split with laughing! Awfully funny fellow, Sharp-Sharp by name and Sharp by nature. But he's first-class awfully first-class! I signed the agreement with him before leaving."

"Without consulting me," I observed frigidly. "Very wifely and kind on your part, Honoria!"

"Oh, bother!" she said rapidly; "wives don't consult their husbands nowadays-that sort of thing's exploded. Each party manages his or her own affairs. Besides, I knew you'd make all manner of objections."

"Oh, you did know that!" and I looked at her steadfastly. "Well, Honoria, in that case perhaps it will be best to do as you say-mutually agree to separate, for a time at least; though you have not thought of the child in the matter; is he to be my care or yours?"

"Good gracious! Yours, of course," she replied very emphatically. "I can't go touring about the country with a shrieking brat! Has he roared old Mammy into deafness yet?"

"No, he has not," I said. "He has not indulged much in 'roaring,' as you call it, since he left your tender maternal care, Honoria!"

I pronounced the words "tender maternal care" with marked and slightly scornful emphasis. She glanced at me, and her full lips curled disdainfully.

"Look here, Mr. William Tribkin!" she announced. "You're a slow coach! that's what you are a slow coach of very medieval pattern! Your wheels want greasing; you take too long a time getting over the road! And you talk a vast deal of old sentimental rubbish, and I never could put up with sentimental