himself, carried away by the fury and passion of her rendering.

Laura struck her palms together.

"Just what 'Abner' says," she cried. "The very words."

"Abner?"

"In the play. I knew I could make you feel it."

"Well, well," murmured her husband, shaking his head, bewildered even
yet. "Well, it's a strange wife I've got here."

"When you've realised that," returned Laura, "you've just begun to
understand me."

Never had he seen her gayer. Her vivacity was bewildering.

"I wish," she cried, all at once, "I wish I had dressed as 'Carmen,'
and I would have danced for you. Oh, and you could have played the air
for me on the organ. I have the costume upstairs now. Wait! I will, I
will! Sit right where you are--no, fix the attachment to the organ
while I'm gone. Oh, be gay with me to-night," she cried, throwing her
arms around him. "This is my night, isn't it? And I am to be just as
foolish as I please."

With the words she ran from the room, but was back in an incredibly
short time, gowned as Bizet's cigarette girl, a red rose in her black
hair, castanets upon her fingers.

Jadwin began the bolero.

"Can you see me dance, and play at the same time?"

"Yes, yes. Go on. How do you know anything about a Spanish dance?"

"I learned it long ago. I know everything about anything I choose,
to-night. Play, play it _fast_."

She danced as though she would never tire, with the same force of
passion that she had thrown into Athalie. Her yellow skirt was a flash
of flame spurting from the floor, and her whole body seemed to move
with the same wild, untamed spirit as a tongue of fire. The castanets
snapped like the crackling of sparks; her black mantilla was a hovering
cloud of smoke. She was incarnate flame, capricious and riotous,
elusive and dazzling.

Then suddenly she tossed the castanets far across the room and dropped
upon the couch, panting and laughing.

"There," she cried, "now I feel better. That had to come out. Come over
here and sit by me. Now, maybe you'll admit that I can dance too."

"You sure can," answered Jadwin, as she made a place for him among the
cushions. "That was wonderful. But, at the same time, old girl, I
wouldn't--wouldn't--"

"Wouldn't what?"

"Well, do too much of that. It's sort of over-wrought--a little, and
unnatural. I like you best when you are your old self, quiet, and calm,
and dignified. It's when you are quiet that you are at your best. I
didn't know you had this stre