pense of God."

"Don't be literary," she pouted, with growing tenderness. "I never did
like epigrammatic discussion. Besides, I'm not afraid to ask you to
forgive me."

"There is nothing to forgive, Theresa. I really should thank you. True,
at first I suffered; and then, with all the graciousness of spring, it
dawned upon me that I was happy, very happy. It was a most amazing
discovery."

"But what if I should return to you?" she asked.

"I should" (he looked at her whimsically), "be greatly perturbed."

"I am your wife. You know you have never got a divorce."

"I see," he meditated. "I have been careless. It will be one of the
first things I attend to."

She came over to his side, resting her hand on his arm. "You don't want
me, John?" Her voice was soft and caressing, her hand rested like a
lure. "If I told you I had made a mistake? If I told you that I was
very unhappy?--and I am. And I did make a mistake."

Fear began to grow on Messner. He felt himself wilting under the lightly
laid hand. The situation was slipping away from him, all his beautiful
calmness was going. She looked at him with melting eyes, and he, too,
seemed all dew and melting. He felt himself on the edge of an abyss,
powerless to withstand the force that was drawing him over.

"I am coming back to you, John. I am coming back to-day . . . now."

As in a nightmare, he strove under the hand. While she talked, he seemed
to hear, rippling softly, the song of the Lorelei. It was as though,
somewhere, a piano were playing and the actual notes were impinging on
his ear-drums.

Suddenly he sprang to his feet, thrust her from him as her arms attempted
to clasp him, and retreated backward to the door. He was in a panic.

"I'll do something desperate!" he cried.

"I warned you not to get excited." She laughed mockingly, and went about
washing the dishes. "Nobody wants you. I was just playing with you. I
am happier where I am."

But Messner did not believe. He remembered her facility in changing
front. She had changed front now. It was exploitation by indirection.
She was not happy with the other man. She had discovered her mistake.
The flame of his ego flared up at the thought. She wanted to come back
to him, which was the one thing he did not want. Unwittingly, his hand
rattled the door-latch.

"Don't run away," she laughed. "I won't bite you."

"I am not running away," he replied with child-like defiance, at