lonaise.

That evening they dined out, and went to "The Tales of Hoffmann." By such
devices it was possible to put off a little longer what she was going to
do. During the drive home in the dark cab, she shrank away into her
corner, pretending that his arm would hurt her dress; her exasperated
nerves were already overstrung. Twice she was on the very point of
crying out: "I am not Daphne Wing!" But each time pride strangled the
words in her throat. And yet they would have to come. What other reason
could she find to keep him from her room?

But when in her mirror she saw him standing behind her--he had crept into
the bedroom like a cat--fierceness came into her. She could see the
blood rush up in her own white face, and, turning round she said:

"No, Gustav, go out to the music-room if you want a companion."

He recoiled against the foot of the bed and stared at her haggardly, and
Gyp, turning back to her mirror, went on quietly taking the pins out of
her hair. For fully a minute she could see him leaning there, moving his
head and hands as though in pain. Then, to her surprise, he went. And a
vague feeling of compunction mingled with her sense of deliverance. She
lay awake a long time, watching the fire-glow brighten and darken on the
ceiling, tunes from "The Tales of Hoffmann" running in her head; thoughts
and fancies crisscrossing in her excited brain. Falling asleep at last,
she dreamed she was feeding doves out of her hand, and one of them was
Daphne Wing. She woke with a start. The fire still burned, and by its
light she saw him crouching at the foot of the bed, just as he had on
their wedding-night--the same hungry yearning in his face, and an arm
outstretched. Before she could speak, he began:

"Oh, Gyp, you don't understand! All that is nothing--it is only you I
want--always. I am a fool who cannot control himself. Think! It's a
long time since you went away from me."

Gyp said, in a hard voice:

"I didn't want to have a child."

He said quickly:

"No; but now you have it you are glad. Don't be unmerciful, my Gyp! It
is like you to be merciful. That girl--it is all over--I swear--I
promise."

His hand touched her foot through the soft eiderdown. Gyp thought: 'Why
does he come and whine to me like this? He has no dignity--none!' And
she said:

"How can you promise? You have made the girl love you. I saw her face."

He drew his hand back.

"You saw her?"

"Yes."

He was