“You belong to me,” he said fiercely; “the marriage certificate is in my pocket. You are restless, aggressive, critical with all the crude unthinking criticism of youth. Montague Hill. “Well?” she said. The poor boy, wanting his empty coat! The incident, however, caused her to review the recent events. The bedding was removed; Mrs. . I suppose I was a little idiotic—I don’t think we either of us mentioned the future, but it was arranged that I should go the next afternoon and have tea with her. Observe it—a blue-serge coat. She stared at him and thought the words, “My husband, my husband. And instead he found her playing the great lady, and playing it well.
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