Four days flew on velvet wings before the first cloud threw its shadow across her life. Jim always slept until nine o'clock, and refused with dogged good-natured indifference to stir when she had asked him to get the wood for breakfast. It was nothing, of course, to walk a hundred yards to the beach and pick up the wood, and she did it. The hurt that stung was the feeling that he was growing indifferent.

She felt for the first time an impulse to box his lazy jaws as he yawned and turned over for the dozenth time without rising. He looked for all the world like a bulldog curled up on his bed of grass.

She shook him at last.

"Jim, dear, you must get up now! Breakfast is almost ready and it won't be fit to eat if you don't come on."

He opened his heavy eyelids and gazed at her sleepily.

"All righto----! Just as you say--just as you say."

"Hurry! Breakfast will be ready before you can dress."

"Gee! Breakfast all ready! You're one smart little wifie, Kiddo."

The compliment failed to please. She was sure that he had been fully awake twice before and pretended to be asleep from sheer laziness and indifference.

The thought hurt.

When they sat down at last to breakfast, she looked into his half-closed eyes with a sudden start.

"Why, Jim, your eyes are red!"

"Yes?"

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing."

"You're ill--what is it?"

He grinned sheepishly.

"You couldn't guess now, could you?"

"You haven't been drinking!" she gasped.

"No," he drawled lazily, "I wouldn't say drinking--I just took one big swallow last night--makes you sleep good when you're tired. Good medicine! I always carry a little with me."

A sickening wave went over her. Not that she felt that he was going to be a drunkard. But the utter indifference with which he made the announcement was a painful revelation of the fact that her opinion on such a question was not of the slightest importance. That he was now master of the situation he evidently meant that she should see and understand at once.

She refused to accept the humiliating position without a struggle and made up her mind to try at once to mold his character. She would begin by getting him to cut the slang from his conversation.

"You remember the promise you made me one day before we were married, Jim?" she asked brightly.

"Which one? You know a fellow's not responsible for what he promises to get his girl. All's fair in love and war, they say----"

"I'm going to hold you to this one, sir," she firmly declared.

"All right, little bright eyes," he responded cheerfully as he lit a cigarette and sent the smoke curling above his red head.

She sat for a while in silence, studying the man before her. The task was delicate and difficult. And she had thought it a mere pastime of love! As her fiance, he had been wax in her hands. As her husband, he was a lazy, headstrong, obstinate young animal grinning good-naturedly at her futile protests. How long would he grin and bear her suggestions with patience? The transition from this lazy grin to the growl of an angry bulldog might be instantaneous.

She would move with the utmost caution--but she would move and at once.

It would be a test of character between them. She edged her chair close to his, drew his head down in her lap and ran her fingers through his thick, red hair.

"Still love me, Jim?" she smiled.

"Crazier over you every day--and you know it, too, you sly little puss,"

he answered dreamily.

"You WILL make good your promises?"

"Sure, I will--surest thing you know!"

"You see, Jim dear," she went on tenderly, "I want to be proud of you----"

"Well, ain't you?"

"Of course I am, silly. I know you and understand you. But I want all the world to respect you as I do." She paused and breathed deeply.

"They've got to do it, too, they've got to----"

"Sure, I'll knock their block off--if they don't!" he broke in.

She raised her finger reprovingly and shook her head.

"That's just the trouble: you can't do it with your fists. You can't compel the respect of cultured men and women by physical force. We've got to win with other weapons."

"All right, Kiddo--dope it out for me," he responded lazily. "Dope it out----"

Her lips quivered with the painful recognition of the task before her.

Yet when she spoke, her voice was low and sweet and its tones even. She gave no sign to the man whose heavy form rested in her arms.

"Then from today we must begin to cut out every word of slang--it's a bargain?"

"Sure, Mike--I promised!"

"Cut 'Sure Mike!'"

She raised her finger severely.

"All right, teacher," he drawled. "What'll we put in Sure Mike's place?

I've found him a handy man!"

"Say 'certainly.'"

Jim grinned good-naturedly.

"Aw hell, Kiddo--that sounds punk!"