r with pallid gold. In the silence, with that unearthly gleam of
colour along the sunflowers and on the girl's head, it was as if a
spirit had dropped into the garden and was fluttering to and fro, unable
to get out.

A voice behind Gyp said: "My God! What's this? An angel?"

Fiorsen was standing hall-way in the darkened room staring out into the
garden, where the girl had halted, transfixed before the window, her
eyes as round as saucers, her mouth open, her limbs rigid with interest
and affright. Suddenly she turned and, gathering her garment, fled, her
limbs gleaming in the moonlight.

And Gyp sat looking up at the apparition of her husband. She could just
see his eyes straining after that flying nymph. Miss Daphne's faun! Why,
even his ears were pointed! Had she never noticed before, how like a
faun he was? Yes--on her wedding-night! And she said quietly:

"Daphne Wing was rehearsing her new dance. So you're back! Why didn't
you let me know? Are you all right--you look splendid!"

Fiorsen bent down and clutched her by the shoulders.

"My Gyp! Kiss me!"

But even while his lips were pressed on hers, she felt rather than
saw his eyes straying to the garden, and thought, "He would like to be
kissing that girl!"

The moment he had gone to get his things from the cab, she slipped out
to the music-room.

Miss Daphne was dressed, and stuffing her garments into the green linen
bag. She looked up, and said piteously:

"Oh! Does he mind? It's awful, isn't it?"

Gyp strangled her desire to laugh.

"It's for you to mind."

"Oh, I don't, if you don't! How did you like the dance?"

"Lovely! When you're ready--come along!"

"Oh, I think I'd rather go home, please! It must seem so funny!"

"Would you like to go by this back way into the lane? You turn to the
right, into the road."

"Oh, yes; please. It would have been better if he could have seen the
dance properly, wouldn't it? What will he think?"

Gyp smiled, and opened the door into the lane. When she returned,
Fiorsen was at the window, gazing out. Was it for her or for that flying
nymph?

IX

September and October passed. There were more concerts, not very well
attended. Fiorsen's novelty had worn off, nor had his playing sweetness
and sentiment enough for the big Public. There was also a financial
crisis. It did not seem to Gyp to matter. Everything seemed remote and
unreal in the shadow of her coming time. Unlike most mothers to be, she
made n