n on to the grass,
and spread slowly back toward where the girl stood waiting. It caught
the border of sunflowers along the garden wall with a stroke of magical,
unearthly colour--gold that was not gold.

Gyp began to play the dance. The pale blurr in the darkness stirred.
The moonlight fell on the girl now, standing with arms spread, holding
out her drapery--a white, winged statue. Then, like a gigantic moth she
fluttered forth, blanched and noiseless flew over the grass, spun and
hovered. The moonlight etched out the shape of her head, painted her
hair 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