God doesn't love neglectful husbands, but I think He is pretty sorry for neglected wives." Frank was very still.

His head drooped, the cigar hung unheeded in his fingers for a moment, and he said at last: "Dick, old boy, I've thought it all over to-night since I came back--everything that you've said.

I have not a word of defence to make, but, by heaven! I'm going to win my wife's love if I can, and when I do it I'll make up for all my cursed foolishness--see if I don't." "That sounds well, Frank," was the quiet reply.

"I like to hear you talk that way.

You would be very foolish if you did not.