an
Reve, half lying, half sitting, reclined upon a sofa. They looked at
each other; Storri trying to seem brave, the San Reve with staring
courage, open and more real.

"You know, my San Reve, I have business with Mr. Harley. Let me tell
you: Mr. Harley, through his relative, Senator Hanway----"

"You go to see the girl," interrupted the San Reve, and the sullen
contralto was vibrant of danger. "You go to see Miss Harley, not her
father."

"And if I do?"

Storri put his query blusteringly.

"You will marry her," went on the San Reve, who appeared to care as
little for Storri's bluster as his kiss.

"I never promised to marry you."

"I do not ask you to marry me. I want neither your name nor your title.
But you promised me your love; I want that." The San Reve's tones were
unruffled. They did not lift or mount, and told only of passionate
resolution. "Storri, why did you bring me from Ottawa?"

"If it come to that," retorted Storri spitefully, "why did you leave
Ottawa?"

"I left Ottawa for love," the San Reve replied, as though considering
with herself. "I left Ottawa for love of you, just as four years before
I came to Ottawa for love of another."

"You have had adventures," remarked Storri sarcastically. "I have never
heard your story, my San Reve; go on, I beseech you!"

"I will tell you one thing," said the San Reve, "from which you may
wring a warning. My father was a showman--a tamer of lions and leopards.
When I was twelve, I went into the den with him to hold a hoop while he
lashed those big cats through it. Yes, Storri," cried the San Reve, a
sudden flame to burst forth in her voice like an oral brightness, and as
apparent as a fire in a forest, "when to fear was to die, I have held
aloft my little hoop to the lions and the leopards! And for all their
snarls they jumped tamely; for all their threats they did nothing. I, as
a child, was not afraid of a lion under the lash; am I now to fear a
bear, a Russian bear, I, who am a woman?"

"Why, my San Reve," protested Storri, "and what has stirred your anger?"

Storri was startled by the San Reve's fury rather than her revelations.
Having a politic mind to soothe her, he sought to take her hand.

"Keep your attentions to yourself!" cried the San Reve; "I am in no
temper for tenderness."

"Ah, as to that," said Storri, turning proud, "I, who am a Russian
gentleman, yes, a Russian nobleman, shall not offend. Yes," yawning and
giving himself an air,