Madam Sapphira by Edgar Saltus

For several days Nevius saw little of his wife. At no time had she been visible when he left the house, and now when he returned there seemed to be always someone at dinner. The cloth removed, he sought the library, a room on the second floor which separated his apartment from hers. By day it was gloomy, for light reached it from above but at night it was pleasant and very still. Lined on three sides with books, it was furnished with a wide table, easy chairs, a hanging lamp, and a sofa large as a bed. Here Nevius passed his evenings. Time was valuable to him just then; he had more documents to examine than he could handle at his office, and many a letter to read and write. Later, the work at an end, he would go in search of his wife, but in those days she must have been overfatigued; her door was locked.

This regimen made him morose. That the effect was noticed is presumable. One evening he was gratified with the intelligence that he was to dine alone with Hilda, and incidentally that there was a surprise in store. What was it? Ah, voilà! If she told, where would the surprise be?

In his delight at recovered companionship Nevius promptly forgot all about that surprise; during the service of the courses he talked of his plans and projects as he had not had the chance to talk for ages before, and when the meal was done and they had gone to the other room there was a caress in his manner which Mrs. Nevius understood.

"Now, Carol," she admonished, as he took a seat at her side. "Do behave, it's immoral, there's no other word for it."

"Immoral!"

"If it is not immoral then, it's worse. It is bourgeois."

From the past there floated to him memories of the old prenuptial days, when there had been no question of ethics, no question of customs, nothing in fact save a frank abandonment to love and life. But to those days he was incapable even of an allusion.

"It is not nice of you to talk like that," he answered. "You accused me some time ago of picking up Jones' cigarette stumps; a speech such as yours smacks of Mrs. Anderson a mile away. I have begged you so to drop her."

"Oho! I'm not nice, eh? " And Mrs. Carol nodded and smiled seductively. "Wait till you see. Now tell me, how have you been passing your evenings?"

"Very badly."

"But how, I mean. What have you been doing?"

"Writing letters."

"And how long has it taken you?"

"Two or three hours."

"Precisely. Now if by any combination of circumstances I were able to shorten those two or three hours into one, and mind I only say If, but if I were, would I be nice or would I not?"

To these propositions Nevius assented.

"Very good, will you come with me for a moment."

Mrs. Nevius led him to the floor above and threw open the library door. Seated at the table was a young woman of that type of blonde beauty which only a sight of creates in the average man a desire to jump straight down the possessor's throat. As the door opened she rose from her seat, and with a gesture, perhaps of embarrassment, her hand went to the side of her head and busied itself with a curl.

Mrs. Nevius looked at the girl, and in a little voice, which was used only on particular occasions, affably, from the tips or the lips, she murmured:

"This is Mr. Nevius, Miss Vührer. " Then with a glance that stripped Miss Vührer from neck to heel, she turned to her husband.