brute whom the supper
had evoked. He wore a scowl and a bloody apron. In his hand was a bill.
Behind him was the baker, the candlestickmaker. Behind these was the
agent, punctual and pertinacious, who had come for the rent. Though but
visions, they were real. Moreover, though they evaporated at once,
solidly they would return. He had been staring at her, and through her,
at them. In staring his eyes filled. Immediately they leaked.

Cassy bit her lip. The tumbril and the guillotine would not have made
her weep. Dry-eyed she would have gone from one to the other. Besides,
what on earth was he wowing about? But immediately it occurred to her
that he might be experiencing one of the attacks to which he was
subject. She leaned over him. "You poor dear, is it your heart?"

He brushed his eyes. Dimly they lighted. With artistic mobility his face
creased in a smile. "No, farther down."

Cassy moved back. "What in the world----"

But now his face clouded again. "I am glad you had supper. To-morrow
we'll starve."

The exaggeration annoyed her, she exclaimed at it and then stopped
short. Already she had envisaged the situation. But it was idle, she
thought, to excite him additionally.

"Well?" he almost whinnied.

But as he would have to know, she out with it. "There's the portrait,
there's the violin. Either would tide us over."

In speaking she had approached him again. He shoved her aside. With a
jerk he got to his feet, struck an attitude, tapped himself on the
breast.

"I, Marquis de Casa-Evora, sell my father's picture! I, Angelo Cara,
sell my violin! And you, my daughter, suggest such a thing! But are you
my daughter? Are you--oh!"

It trailed away. The noble anger, real or assumed, fell from him. No
longer the outraged father, he was but a human being in pain.

Cassy hurried to the mantel where, in provision of these attacks, were
glass tubes with amyl in them. She took and broke one and had him inhale
it.

Then, though presently the spasm passed, the wolf remained. But the
beast had no terrors for Cassy. Buoyant, as youth ever is, his fangs
amused her. They might close on her, but they would not hurt, at any
rate very much, or, in any case, very long. Meanwhile she had had supper
and for the morrow she had a plan. That night she dreamed of it. From
the dream she passed into another. She dreamed she was going about
giving money away. The dream of a dream, it was very beautiful, and
sometimes, to exceptiona