uncan insinuatingly.

"Because it doesn't amuse me," she answered coldly. "I am not like other
women, I suppose; at least, what you call pleasure disgusts me."

"Then why have you let me be your friend so long?"

"Because you amuse me," she replied carelessly. "I like to see you
bluster and go away, and then come back to me. Other women pander to
you, but I don't; other women love you, but I don't."

As Duncan listened to these words, a blush of anger came to his cheek.
He thought of how strong had been his influence over other women, and
how weak he had always been in Helen's hands. "After all, love is a game
of strength," he mused. He had been no better than a ball to be tossed
about at pleasure, but he would throw off the spell of this woman, which
had bound him so fast--he who thought he knew the world so well. An
expression of firmness came into his face, and he said: "I loved you
once, Helen, but I hate you now."

"I am glad," she answered; "now there is a chance that your passion will
be returned."

Duncan did not reply. He left his seat beside her and walked slowly into
the next room. Helen's eyes followed him. "Silly boy," she thought, "I
hope he will hate me; I might love him then."

Long after the lights in the smoking-room had gone out, long after the
laughter had ceased, Duncan slowly paced his room. His hands were deep
in his pockets and he held a briar pipe between his lips. Occasionally
he would take a draw at the pipe, and then watch the blue smoke curl
gently upward and fade away in long, thin streaks; but all the time he
was thinking over the part Helen Osgood had played in his life. "She is
right," he said, half aloud; "I do bluster and go away, and come back to
her, and I will do it again. No, by Jove! I won't. A man can't forget
that he has been played fast and loose with, and I would not be a man if
I went back to that woman. I hate her. I hate her," he repeated. "She
might have made a different man of me. I was young and might have taken
life better, but she laughed me into the selfish brute I am. O, well,"
he sighed, as he thought of his past, "I suppose I am no worse than
those around me. We all worry over what might have been, but we don't
take the pleasure that comes to us. A man's an ass to break his neck for
any woman. There are others in the world, good looking ones, too, who
will love for the asking." He returned his pipe to its case and closed
it with a loud snap. "I have been in