oun. Henry winced at every word,
but he had to answer, and presently he found he did not feel so sad.
Then, with dexterity, she turned the conversation to English politics
and got him to explain points to her, and at every moment she poured in
insidious flattery and frank, kind affection, so that by the time the
ice had come, Henry had begun to feel unaccountably soothed. She was
really a beautiful woman and arranged with a wonderful _chic_, and he
realized that she had never looked more charming or been so sweet. She
had all the sense of power being on her side, now that she had a free
hand, unhampered by honor to her friend, and when the dessert and the
cigarettes had come, she felt that she might indulge in a little
sentiment.

She remembered that he only smoked cigars, and got up and helped him to
light one of his own; and when she was quite close to him, she put her
hand out and stroked his hair.

"Even if he does not like it at first," she told herself, "he is too
polite to say so, and presently, just because he is a man, it will give
him a thrill."

"I do love your light hair, Henry," she said aloud, "and it is so well
brushed. You Englishmen are certainly _soigne_ creatures, and I like
your lazy, easy grace--as though you would never put yourself out for
any one. I can't bear a fuss." She puffed her cigarette and did not wait
for him to answer her, but prattled on perfectly at ease. Even his
courtesy would not have prevented him from snubbing her, if she had been
the least tentative in her caressings, or the least diffident. But she
just took it as a matter of course that she could stroke his hair if she
wanted to, and presently it began to give him a sensation of pleasure
and rest. If she had, by word or look, suggested that she expected some
return, Henry would have frozen at once--but all she did was apparently
only to please herself, and so he had no defense to make. Still in the
character of domestic tyrant, she presently led him to the comfortable
armchair, and once more seated herself upon the stool close to the fire
by his side. Here she was silent for a few moments, letting the comfort
of the whole scene sink in to his brain--and then, when the maid came in
to clear away the dinner-table, she got up and went to the piano, where
she played some soft, but not sentimental tunes. Music of a certain sort
would be the worst thing for him, but a light air while Marie was in the
room could do no harm. Though