Alpha Book

"Well!" said his young wife in astonished displeasure, instinctively
tucking her feet--from which her maid had just removed the shoes--under
her own chamber-robe.
"Send her out a moment," he said, with a nod of his head toward the
maid. His voice was agreeable and full--a trifle precise and
overcultivated, perhaps.
When the maid retired, Alixe sat up on the lounge, drawing her skirts
down over her small stockinged feet.
"What on earth is the matter?" she demanded.
"The matter is," he said, "that Gerald has just telephoned me from the
Stuyvesant that he isn't coming."
"Well?"
"No, it isn't well. This is some of your meddling."
"What if it is?" she retorted; but her breath was coming quicker.
"I'll tell you; you can get up and ring him up and tell him you expect
him to-night."
She shook her head, eyeing him all the while.
"I won't do it, Jack. What do you want him for? He can't play with the
people who play here; he doesn't know the rudiments of play.


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