n every
detail to the best traditions of orgies; and Stepan's companion, a
French girl of the Maison Doree, had opened the eyes of the historic
fancy to the latent possibilities of the dance.

Jannie, at this, had spoiled everything, but mostly the temper of the
munificent politician, by a piercing scream. She had gone on, Ena
admitted, something terrible. When Mr. Meeker had tried to bundle her to
bed, she had kicked and scratched like never before. And since then she
declared that she'd never make another effort to materialize shameless
spirits.

Argument, even the temporary absence of Benedictine, had been
unavailing. Very well, Mrs. Meeker had told her grimly, she would have
to go back to cotton stockings; and no more grilled sweetbreads for
supper, either; she'd be lucky if she got scrapple. She didn't care;
everything was black for her. Black it must have been, I pointed out to
McGeorge; it was bad enough with worry limited to the span of one
existence, but to look forward to a perpetuity of misery--

McGeorge returned the latter part of the week with the plans for their
marriage, an elopement, considerably advanced; but only Jannie was at
home. She saw him listlessly in the usual formal room, where--he almost
never encountered her--he sat in a slight perplexity. Jannie might be
thought prettier than Ena, he acknowledged, or at least in the face. She
had quantities of bright brown hair, which she affected to wear, in the
manner of much younger girls, confined, with a ribbon, and flowing down
her back. Her eyes, too, were brown and remarkable in that the entire
iris was exposed. Her full under lip was vividly rouged, while her chin
was unobtrusive.

That evening she was dressed very elaborately. The pink silk stockings
and preposterous kid slippers were in evidence; her dress was black
velvet, short, and cut like a sheath; and there was a profusion of lacy
ruffles and bangles at her wrists. To save his soul, McGeorge couldn't
think of anything appropriate to talk about. Jannie was a being apart, a
precious object of special reverence. This, together with her very human
pettishness, complicated the social problem. He wanted excessively to
leave,--there was no chance of seeing Ena,--but neither could he think
of any satisfactory avenue of immediate escape.

Jannie's hands, he noticed, were never still; her fingers were always
plaiting the velvet on her knees. She would sigh gustily, bite her lips,
and accomplis