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 also laughed, after which Sir Brian stepped on his gas and went roaring away from a standing start with the eyes of Fay Judson following him out of sight.

"I do believe Sir Brian likes you, George!" enthused Fay, pulling her husband down to give him a kiss in plain view of any passer-by. "Come onl" she added. "I'm crazy to see Junior; always am when I've been out."

George bounded after her.

"How did everything go at the office today?" Fay asked, when after a time she gave the baby back to its nurse and another sort of consciousness came over her—a sort of husband and sweetheart consciousness. It was her stock query always to his home-coming.

"Well, a rather—" he began, feeling his words, when suddenly there came before his mind that picture of the man from whom his wife had just parted—the agreeable young Englishman, with his air of indolent grace and his manner of such impregnable self-assurance. Should he, George Judson, invite unfavorable comparison with that? Should his wife turn from the glamour of a titled and socially accomplished expert to be disillusioned for the first time concerning her husband—to look upon a harried, sagging, ignoble figure of a man in need of understanding and seeking consolation? She should not—decidedly, she should not! In an