Stella’s first dance at the River Club was a bitter occasion for Stephen. She, a stranger, an invited guest of Mrs. Palmer’s, had allowed one man to dance with her for the entire last half of the evening. Afterward in their bedroom, when Stephen spoke to her about it, to his amazement she laughed and scoffed.

“Oh, gracious, Stephen, don’t think you can give me pointers on how to treat a man at a dance! There are some things I know more about than you, my dear.”

It was when Stella began to think that there were some things she knew more than Stephen, and to act upon that superior knowledge, that the seed of trouble that ended so disastrously for her first began to grow.

“But, Stella, for you, a stranger, to dance with one man is conspicuous.”

“Of course! Of course it’s conspicuous,” Stella replied. “Oh I know what I’m about, stupid! That man was Spencer Chisholm! Gracious, think of it! The Chisholms, Stephen! Think of it! An affair between me and Spencer Chisholm!” Her eyes sparkled.

Stephen turned away. It was going to be as difficult to stamp out Stella’s vulgarity as to rid a lawn of the persistent dandelion once it gets its roots down. Stephen despised kowtowing.

“The Chisholms! My dear Stella, I hope you’ll avoid that attitude toward people hereafter. You’re my wife now.”

“And can’t look at another man?” she flashed.

“That isn’t the point.”

“Mercy,” she went right on, “I can’t help it if a man wants to dance with me. I should think you’d be pleased to have your wife popular. Most men would be. Most men—”

“I’m not pleased to have you talked about. Please don’t give anyone occasion to again, Stella.”

“Good Lord, Stephen, you’re not going to turn out to be the jealous kind, I hope, if another man looks at me.”

Stephen winced.

“I hate a jealous man,” she went on. “I always have!” And she threw down her comb upon the dressing-table. It screeched as it struck the plate-glass protection.

Stephen winced again. Throwing things! His wife! Accusing him of jealousy! Very quietly he went out into the hall, and stood a moment in the darkness, waiting till his jarred nerves stopped tingling.

I must be patient, he thought. It isn’t her fault. It is only that she has been bred differently. She doesn’t know.

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