s kiss.

Then Loraine Haswell drew away and straightened up. She was a very
lovely picture of contrite confusion as she put up both gleaming arms
and rearranged the dark hair he had rumpled. All the way to the house
she was silent.

CHAPTER XII

An hour later Mrs. Haswell sat before the cheval glass of her
dressing-table. Her dark hair, loosened now from its coils, cascaded
abundantly over her white shoulders. She was thinking, and the
charmingly chiseled lips and brow here in the privacy of her own room
wore a rather calculating and somewhat satisfied smile. No note of
contrition or self-accusation marred their serenity. A knock on the door
interrupted her reverie and with a smothered exclamation of annoyance
she glanced at the clock and rose.

"May I come in a moment?" Her husband's voice was a shade thicker than
usual and his face still wore the somber expression which seemed so out
of place there.

"It's almost two o'clock, Len." There was an uninviting coolness in the
quality of Loraine's tone--almost a protest. "Won't tomorrow do?" She
stood still, holding the door only a few inches ajar.

"I won't keep you up long," he assured her.

"I'm very tired."

Len Haswell laid his hand on the knob and opened the door in spite of
her unwelcome. "If you please," he said quietly. He came in and lighted
a cigarette, then he inquired with an unaccustomed irony: "What tired
you, Loraine? You didn't seem to be dancing much."

His wife shrugged her shoulders. Beyond that she failed to reply.

The big man came over and took both her hands in his own with a
half-savage affection. "Loraine," he said pleadingly, "I wanted to dance
with you tonight. I searched high and low, but I couldn't find you. For
my part I have spent a very dreary evening."

"You know, Len," she casually reminded him, "you and I can't dance
together. I'm a fair dancer and you are a very good one, but together we
can't manage it. There were plenty of other girls, weren't there?"

The man's face for an instant worked spasmodically and in pain, then it
grew dark. "For me, Loraine, there is never any other girl. You know
that. Why do you avoid me as if I were a pestilence? Why can't you
sometimes be the girl you used to be? Presumably you married me because
you wanted to. You had better offers, richer lovers. Have I changed so
much in five years--and if not, what in God's name has changed you?"

She withdrew her hands from his and sat again i