cand.

The girl flung stole and muff from her, rolled up her gloves and took
a shot at the piano, then, laughing, unpinned her hat and sent it
scaling away into the golden dusk somewhere.

"Are you sleepy, Jim?"

A sudden vision of his trouble in the long, long night to face--trouble,
insomnia, and the bitterness welling ever fresher with the interminable
thoughts he could not suppress, could not control----

"I'm not sleepy," he said. "But don't you want to turn in?"

She went over to the piano, and, accompanying herself on deadened
pedal where she stood, sang in a low voice the "_Snow-Tiger_," with
its uncanny refrain:

"Tiger-eyes
Tiger-eyes,
What do you see
Far in the dark
Over the snow?
Far in the dark
Over the snow,
Slowly the ghosts of dead men go,--
Horses and riders under the moon
Trample along to the dead men's rune,
_Slava! Slava!_
Over the snow."

"That's too hilarious a song," said Jim, laughing. "May I suggest a
little rag to properly subdue us?"

"You don't like _Tiger-eyes_?"

"I've heard more cheerful ditties."

"When I'm excited by pleasure," said the girl, "I sing _Tiger-eyes_."

"Does it subdue you?"

She looked at him. "No."

Still standing, she looked down at the keys, struck the muffled chords
softly.

"Tiger-eyes
Tiger-eyes,
Where do they go,
Far in the dark
Over the snow?
Into the dark,
Over the snow,
Only the ghosts of the dead men know
Where they have come from, whither they go,
Riding at night by the corpse-light glow,
_Slava!_ _Slava!_
Over the snow."

"Well, for the love of Mike----"

Marya's laughter pealed.

"So you don't like _Tiger-eyes_?" she demanded, coming from behind the
piano.

"I sure don't," he admitted.

"The real Russian name of the song is 'Words! Words!' And that's all
the song is--all that any song is--all that anything amounts
to--words! words!--" She dropped onto the long couch,--"Anything
except--love."