"Cal, remember your promise!"

"Not a drop," and the double slamming of the street doors set Tekla
humming Hunding's motif in "Die Walkuere."

II

Her morning-room was hung with Japanese umbrellas and, despite the
warning of friends, peacock-feathers hid from view the walls; this
comfortable little boudoir, with its rugs, cozy Turkish corner, and dull
sweet odors was originally a hall-bedroom; Tekla's ingenuity and
desperate desire for the unconventional had converted the apartment into
the prettiest of the Calcraft flat. Here, and here alone, was the
imperious critic forbidden pipe or cigar. Cigarettes he abhorred,
therefore Tekla allowed her favorites to use them. She became sick if
she merely lighted one; so her pet attitude was to loll on a crimson
divan and hold a freshly rolled Russian cigarette in her big fingers
covered with opals. Her male friends said that she reminded them of a
Frankish slave in a harem; she needed nothing more but Turkish-trousers,
hoop ear-rings, and the sad, resigned smile of the captive maiden....

It was half-past five in the dark, stormy afternoon when the electric
buzzer warned Tekla of visitors. A man was ushered into the drawing-room
and Magda, in correct cap and apron, fetched his card to her mistress.

"Show him in here, Magda, and Magda"--there were languid intonations in
the voice of this vigorous woman--"light that lamp with the green
globe."

In the fast disappearing daylight Tekla peeped at herself in a rhomboid
crystal mirror, saw her house frock, voluminously becoming, and her
golden hair set well over her brow: she believed in the eternal charm of
fluffiness. After the lamp was ready the visitor came in. He was a very
tall, rather emaciated looking, blond young man, whose springy step and
clear eyes belied any hint of ill-health. As he entered, the gaze of the
two met in the veiled light of the green-globed lamp, and the fire
flickered high on the gas-log hearth. He hesitated with engaging
modesty; then Tekla, holding out a hand, moved in a large curved way, to
meet him.

"Delighted, I am sure, my dear Herr Viznina, to know you! How good of
you to call on such a day, to see a bored woman." He bowed, smiled,
showing strong white teeth under his boyish moustache, and sat down on
the low seat near her divan.

"Madame," he answered in Slavic-accented English, "I am happy to make
your acquaintance and hope to meet your husband, M. Calcraft." She
turned her head impat