"Do you know that you are talking very strangely to me?"

"No. I'm talking business. Is that a strange thing to a woman?"

Mrs. Dillingham made no reply, but stood and watched the boys, as they
ran up and down the steps in play, with a smile of sympathy upon her
face, and genuine admiration of the graceful motions and handsome face
and figure of the lad of whom Mr. Belcher had been talking. Her
curiosity was piqued, her love of intrigue was appealed to, and she
determined to do, at the first convenient opportunity, what Mr. Belcher
desired her to do.

Then Mrs. Belcher returned, and the evening, like the afternoon, was
devoted to the reception of guests, and when, at last, the clock struck
eleven, and Mrs. Dillingham stood bonneted and shawled ready to go home
in the carriage that waited at the door, Mrs. Belcher kissed her, while
Mr. Belcher looked on in triumph.

"Now, Sarah, haven't we had a nice day?" said he.

"Very pleasant, indeed."

"And haven't I behaved well? Upon my word, I believe I shall have to
stand treat to my own abstinence, before I go to bed."

"Yes, you've been wonderfully good," remarked his wife.

"Men are such angels!" said Mrs. Dillingham.

Then Mr. Belcher put on his hat and overcoat, led Mrs. Dillingham to her
carriage, got in after her, slammed the door, and drove away.

No sooner were they in the carriage than Mrs. Dillingham went to
talking about the little boy, in the most furious manner. Poor Mr.
Belcher could not divert her, could not induce her to change the
subject, could not get in a word edgewise, could not put forward a
single apology for the kiss he intended to win, did not win his kiss at
all. The little journey was ended, the carriage door thrown open by her
own hand, and she was out without his help.

"Good-night; don't get out," and she flew up the steps and rang the
bell.

Mr. Belcher ordered the coachman to drive him home, and then sank back
on his seat, and crowding his lips together, and compressing his
disappointment into his familiar expletive, he rode back to his house as
rigid in every muscle as if he had been frozen.

"Is there any such thing as a virtuous devil, I wonder," he muttered to
himself, as he mounted his steps. "I doubt it; I doubt it."

The next day was icy. Men went slipping along upon the side-walks as
carefully as if they were trying to follow a guide through the galleries
of Versailles. And in the afternoon a beautiful woman called a b