y for a while and
achieving a small red glow in one corner of the bowl, the latter rose
and regarded his wife and his guest attentively for a moment.

"I'll tell you what I'll do," he said at length, and looked at his pipe,
which was already out. "I'll go in and see Malleotis for a while. He'll
be back by now. And you two can have a little talk before we have
supper."

"Well, don't be all night. You know, when you and Mr. Malleotis get
talking business----"

The woman on the couch paused, regarding her husband as he bent his head
over her. Mr. Dainopoulos suddenly put his pipe in his pocket and put
his hands on either side of the pillow. Mr. Spokesly could see nothing
save the man's broad, humped shoulders. There was a moment of silence.
Mr. Spokesly, very much embarrassed, looked out of the window. When he
turned his head again Mr. Dainopoulos was putting on a large tweed cap
and walking out of the door.

"I suppose," Mr. Spokesly remarked, and fixed his eyes upon the
extremely decorative Scotch travelling rug which covered the woman's
limbs, "I suppose he doesn't go off every evening and leave you here."
He spoke jocosely. Mrs. Dainopoulos looked out into the darkness. There
was a faint colour in her cheeks, as though the sudden revelation of the
passion she could evoke had filled her with exquisite shame. Or perhaps
pride. Her clear, delicate English face, the mouth barely closed, the
short straight nose slightly raised, the brown hair spread in a slight
disorder upon the pillow, were surely indicating pride. Some inkling of
this possibility came to Mr. Spokesly, and he sat regarding her, while
he waited for her to speak, and wondering how a woman like her had come
to marry one of these here dagoes. Peculiar creatures, women, Mr.
Spokesly thought; knowing nothing whatever about them, it may be
mentioned. And when Mrs. Dainopoulos turned to look at him, soon after
she began to speak, the prevailing fancy at the back of his mind was
"She thinks I don't know anything about the ladies! Fancy that!"

"His business takes him out a good deal," she said in a low voice, "but
he wouldn't go if he could help it. To-night is unusual."

"The pleasure is mine," said Mr. Spokesly.

"Not altogether," she smiled, and her speech became perceptibly more
racy and rapid. "Don't flatter yourself. Mr. Dainopoulos was thinking of
me."

"I dare say he does a good deal of that."

The woman on the sofa laced her fingers lightly and