"At any rate you seem to enjoy yourself, or you would not stay so long."
"Well, if I do, it's my own business."
"It is my business," she said, angrily.
"I'd like to see you help yourself," he said, turning fiercely toward her.
She burst into tears.
"You might stay with me when I'm ill," she said. "I don't like to stay alone; I get so nervous that I sometimes think I'm going to die."
Max laughed boisterously, as he said:
"Oh, I guess there's no danger of that. If you think there is you had better go back to that other man of yours. I'd rather have a live wife on my hands any day than a dead one, as I have no particular fancy for funerals; they create too much of a sensation."
"Mercy, how you talk. I am sure I don't want to die, but I don't believe Scott would let me into the house if I were to go back to him."
"Oh, yes, he would; he is one of those Christian fellows, you know. He would let you go back and run the Wilmer mansion, just as you used to, and then if you took a notion to run off with a handsomer man, he'd let you go and not even apply for a divorce. Say, do you know you are his wife just as much as you ever was?"
Irene started. She wondered what it was that had taken possession of Max to induce him to talk so harshly to her. It was true she knew he was under the influence of liquor, but he should have enough sense left to treat her as though she were human, even if he had made a brute of himself.
"Do you know," he repeated, "that you are Scott Wilmer's wife?"
"No, I don't know it," she said, wiping the tears away. "I am your wife."
"Where is your certificate?" he asked mockingly.
"You should know; you know what you promised."
"Oh, well, promises don't stand in law worth a cent."
"I am sure that if Scott had promised anything it would have stood any law."
"Oh, yes, but you see Scott is one of your Christian fellows; he wouldn't lie to save his soul."
"No, he would never break a promise. But what is the use of talking about him?" she asked, impatiently. "It is quite likely he is married before this time."
"Oh, come, now, Rene, you know better than that; you know he never believed in divorces, and I'll bet my head he is not married."
"Well, I couldn't go back there if I wanted to."
"Try it."
"You must want to get rid of me. What is the matter with you, Max?"
"Oh, nothing, only to tell you the truth, I know a little fairy who is crazy for me to make love to her, and she is one of the neatest little dancers in all the world."
"Max," cried Irene, angrily, "you are a perfect devil, and I wish I had never seen you. I wish I had never left Scott."
A fresh burst of tears and a violent fit of coughing followed this outburst of anger, and Irene sank back exhausted on her pillow.
"I wish you never had left him," Max said, wiping his bloodshot eyes, as he arose and started to leave the room. "I am going to bed; you can spend the rest of the night there if you want to."
"Oh, dear," sobbed Irene, as she was left again to herself. "Oh, how I wish I had never left home. I think Max is too cross to live. He really abuses me, and after making so many promises, too. I wonder why I am not as much of an angel now as I used to be. Oh dear, oh dear.
Perhaps Max will be better natured when he gets over his fit of drunkenness. If I were not so ill I would get even with him yet."
Again the face of Scott Wilmer came before her, and the searching eyes seemed to look into hers with a gaze that burned down into her very soul.
"What a fool I am," she said, as though angry at herself. "I can't get back what I have thrown away, so I must think no more of Scott. I don't intend to do much coaxing with Max either. If he is making love to some little fairy, as he calls her, I will follow him and find out who she is, and it will be a dear job for both of them. Curse him, what has he done; brought me out here, perhaps to die alone? Oh, I'll curse them both if I find him playing false to me."
She half arose from the couch, then sank back suddenly.
"Oh, oh, that pain in my side is awful. I wish Max would go for the doctor; but I wouldn't dare to ask him, for he would only laugh at me, and he wouldn't go."
Irene drew a shawl about her shoulders and tried to sleep, but no sleep came to her until the morning dawned, then she sank into a light slumber.
"Why, how pale you look, Miss Wilmer," said Mary, touching her arm, "are you ill?"
"I coughed so hard all night that I am nearly dead."
"I should think you was quite dead by the color of you. You had better get up and have a cup of coffee, or shall I bring it to you?"
"No. I would rather get up. Where is Max?"
"Asleep. He don't want to get up yet; guess he's cross by the way he ordered me to leave."
"Let him sleep," said Irene, as she arose with a languid air. She walked to the mirror, and looking in, she started at the sight of her own face, which was as pale as marble, and her eyes sunken and surrounded by great dark circles. Her hair twisted in an unbecoming knot at the back of her head seemed to add ten years to her life.
"Bring my false hair, Mary," she said, "and see if you cannot make me look a little more respectable. I am a fright."
"Oh, I shall have to lie down again. I am growing faint," said Irene, as Mary started to arrange her hair.
"Mercy," said Mary, as she helped her to the couch, "you look like a dead woman; you had better let me bring your coffee and toast in for you."
Irene made no objection, and after Mary had bathed her face with camphor she brought her a tempting light breakfast, of which Irene forced herself to eat that she might have strength to arise, but for a number of days she was confined to her bed. Her cough, which was growing worse each day, had worn her to a mere shadow of her former self, and strive as she would to appear cheerful, she could not hide the truth which was each day growing more and more apparent.
"I wish you would stay with me to-night, Max," she said, one evening, as she lay upon the couch, "I want to tell you something."
"I couldn't think of it, my dear. I've got an engagement; but if it is anything of importance you may as well tell me all about it before I go."
"You are very independent lately, but it may bring you down a little to have me tell you that father has been here, and says we've got to move. He has lost this house through his gambling, and we must go back to San Bernardino."
"The devil!" said Max, with a frown.
"Yes, and there's no telling what the next turn will be. He is losing money all the time. I should think it was about time you came in possession of your wealth."
Max, looking down at the floor, said:
"Don't trouble yourself about my fortune, just look out for your own."