DUTY INTERFERES AGAIN Hunterleys sat that night alone in a seat at the Opera for a time and lost himself in a maze of recollections.

He seemed to find himself growing younger as he listened to the music.

The days of a more vivid and ardent sentimentality seemed to reassert themselves.

He thought of the hours when he had sat side by side with his wife, the only woman to whom he had ever given a thought; of the thrill which even the touch of her fingers had given him, of the drive home together, the little confidences and endearments, the glamour which seemed to have been thrown over life before those unhappy misunderstandings.

He remembered so well the beginning of them all--the terrible pressure of work which was thrown upon his shoulders, his engrossed days, his disturbed nights; her patience at first, her subsequent petulance, her final anger.