than any other woman,
Ellenora enjoyed the conquest of man. She mastered Paul as she had
mastered Arthur, easily; but there was more of the man of the world,
more of the animal in the amateur, and the silkiness of her husband, at
first an amusement, finally angered her.

Vibert knew that his wife saw Paul much too often for his own
edification, but only protested once, and so feebly that she laughed at
him.

"Arthur," she said, taking him by his slender shoulders, "why don't you
come home some night in a jealous rage and beat me? Perhaps then I might
love you. As it is, Mr. Goddard only amuses me; besides, I read him my
new stories, otherwise I don't care an iota for him."

He lifted his eyebrows, went to the piano and played the last movement
of his new concerto, played it with all the fire he could master, his
face white, muscles angry, a timid man transformed.

"Why don't you beat me instead of the piano, dear?" she cried out
mockingly; "some women, they say, can be subdued in that fashion." He
rushed from the room....

April was closing when Vibert, summoned to Washington, gave a piano
recital there, and Ellenora went down-town to dinner with Goddard. She
was looking well, her spring hat and new gown were very becoming. As
they sat at Martin's eating strawberries, Paul approved of her
exceedingly. He had been drinking, and the burgundy and champagne at
dinner made him reckless.

"See here, Ellenora Vibert, where is all this going to end? I'm not a
bad fellow, but I swear I'm only human, and if you are leading me on to
make a worse ass of myself than usual, why, then, I quit."

She regarded him coolly. "It will end when I choose and where I choose.
It is my own affair, Paul, and if you feel cowardly qualms, go home like
a good boy to your mamma and tell her what a naughty woman I am."

He sobered at once and reaching across the narrow dining-table took her
wrist in both of his hands and forced her to listen.

"You disdainful woman! I'll not be mastered by you any longer--"

"That means," interrupted Ellenora coolly, "do as you wish, and not as I
please."

Paul, his vanity wounded, asked the waiter for his reckoning. His
patience was worn away.

"Paul, don't be silly," she cried, her eyes sparkling. "Now order a
carriage and we'll take a ride in the park and talk the matter over.
I'm afraid the fool's fever is in your blood; the open air may do it
good. Oh! the eternal nonsense of youth. Call a carriage