produce a great effect on this man to-night, to
change the whole current of his life, without having the help of
either love or even friendship. Unconsciously she planned to bring
him close to her, though very likely she had never heard of personal
magnetism, or any of the curious secrets political speakers or
actors or revivalists could have told her of the deadening effects of
distance and empty benches.

Then Kitty, in her room overhead, looked at herself in the glass,
arrayed in a soft cashmere, in color blue, still farther toned down,
by certain softer fringes and loops, into the very ideal garb for
a man's type of "yielding, lovely woman." It was one of the sacred
wedding-dresses.

"Maria could never look like this," tying a lace handkerchief about
her neck, pulling the soft rings of hair looser about her ears,
setting her head on one side, and half shutting her eyes to see the
thick and curly lashes.

There was no danger of interruption. Maria was safely lodged in the
Water-cure House, and the very idea of Mr. Muller's glossy black shoes
and dainty brown umbrella venturing out in the rain made Kitty laugh.

"The dear, good soul is finical as a cat," with the good-natured
indulgence of a mother for a child. Suddenly she stopped, stared at
herself in the glass. "Why, he is my husband!" she said, speaking to
the blushing, blue-robed figure as to another person. Then she hastily
unbuttoned, unlooped the pretty dress, threw it off, putting on her
usual gray wrapper and knotting her hair more tightly back than ever
in a comb. "He has been very good to me--very good to me," her chin
trembling a good deal.

Then she went down to meet Doctor McCall, who that moment came into
the Book-shop, stopping at the door to take off and shake his oilskin
coat.

"It is a wet night," she said, just as though he were a stranger. She
did not know what else to say or what he answered as she went about,
trimming the lamp, dragging out a chair for him, closing the window
curtains. Both McCall and Catharine were ordinary people, accustomed
to keep up a good flow of talk on ordinary subjects, the weather
or any joke or gossip that was nearest to them. There had been no
passages of love or hate between them to account for her forced
formality, her trembling and flushing, and urgent almost angry wish
to remind him that she was Mr. Muller's affianced wife. She felt this
with a new contempt for herself.

As for Doctor McCall, he leane