His ability to "get things done," before it
ceases to be a novelty, is a quality to be admired. Honora admired. An
intimacy--if the word be not too strong--sprang up between them. They
wandered through the quaint streets of New Orleans, that most foreign of
American cities, searching out the tumbledown French houses; and Honora
was never tired of imagining the romances and tragedies which must have
taken place in them. The new scenes excited her,--the quaint cafes with
their delicious, peppery Creole cooking,--and she would sit talking
for a quarter of an hour at a time with Alphonse, who outdid himself to
please the palate of a lady with such allure. He called her "Madame";
but well he knew, this student of human kind, that the title had not
been of long duration.

Madame came from New York, without doubt? such was one of his questions,
as he stood before them in answer to Howard's summons, rubbing his
hands. And Honora, with a little thrill, acknowledged the accuracy
of his guess. There was no dish of Alphonse's they did not taste. And
Howard smilingly paid the bills. He was ecstatically proud of his wife,
and although he did justice to the cooking, he cared but little for
the mysterious courtyards, the Spanish buildings, and the novels of Mr.
George W. Cable, which Honora devoured when she was too tired to walk
about. He followed her obediently to the battle field of New Orleans,
and admired as obediently the sunset, when the sky was all silver-green
through the magnolias, and the spreading live oaks hung with Spanish
moss, and a silver bar lay upon the Father of Waters. Honora, with
beating heart and flushed cheeks, felt these things: Howard felt them
through her and watched--not the sunset--but the flame it lighted in her
eyes.

He left her but twice a day, and then only for brief periods. He even
felt a joy when she ventured to complain.

"I believe you care more for those horrid stocks than for me," she said.
"I--I am just a novelty."

His answer, since they were alone in their sitting-room, was obvious.

"Howard," she cried, "how mean of you! Now I'll have to do my hair all
over again. I've got such a lot of it--you've no idea how difficult it
is."

"You bet I have!" he declared meaningly, and Honora blushed.

His pleasure of possession was increased when people turned to look at
her on the street or in the dining room--to think that this remarkable
creature was in reality his wife! Nor did the feeling g