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〃Yes； indeed。 I feel quite different already。〃
〃I hoped so。 You are coming to your senses？〃
〃Perhaps。 Only〃 She laid a beautiful white pleading hand upon his shoulder and gazed earnestly into his eyes〃please don't frighten me with that talk and those other kisses。〃
He looked at her uncertainly。 〃Come round in your own way；〃 he said at last。 〃I don't want to hurry you。 I suppose every bird has its own way of dropping from a perch。〃
〃You don't like my way？〃 she inquired。
It was said archly but also in the way that always made him vaguely uneasy； made him feel like one facing a mystery which should be explored cautiously。 〃It is graceful；〃 he admitted； with a smile since he could not venture to frown。 〃Gracefulbut slow。〃
She laughedand he could not but feel that the greater laughter in her too innocent eyes was directed at him。 She talked of other thingsand he let her charmed； yet cursing his folly； his slavery； the while。
X
MANY a time he had pitied a woman for letting him get away from her； when she obviously wished to hold him and failed solely because she did not understand her business。 Like every other man； he no sooner began to be attracted by a woman than he began to invest her with a mystery and awe which she either could dissipate by forcing him to see the truth of her commonplaceness or could increase into a power that would enslave him by keeping him agitated and interested and ever satisfied yet ever baffled。 But no woman had shown this supreme skill in the art of loveuntil Dorothy Hallowell。 She exasperated him。 She fascinated him。 She kept him so restless that his professional work was all but neglected。 Was it her skill？ Was it her folly？ Was she simply leading him on and on； guided blindly by woman's instinct to get as much as she could and to give as little as she dared？ Or was she protected by a real indifference to himthe strongest； indeed the only invulnerable armor a woman can wear？ Was she protecting herself？ Or was it merely that he； weakened by his infatuation； was doing the protecting for her？
Beside these distracting questions； the once all… important matter of professional and worldly ambition seemed not worth troubling about。 They even so vexed him that he had become profoundly indifferent as to Josephine。 He saw her rarely。 When they were alone he either talked neutral subjects or sat almost mute； hardly conscious of her presence。 He received her efforts at the customary caressings with such stolidity that she soon ceased to annoy him。 They reduced their outward show of affection to a kiss when they met； another when they separated。 He was tiredalways tired worn outhalf sickharassed by business concerns。 He did not trouble himself about whether his listless excuses would be accepted or not。 He did not care what she thoughtor might thinkor might do。
Josephine was typical of the women of the comfortable class。 For them the fundamentally vital matters of lifethe profoundly harassing questions of food； clothing； and shelterare arranged and settled。 What is there left to occupy their minds？ Little but the idle emotions they manufacture and spread foglike over their true natures to hide the barrenness； the monotony。 They fool with phrases about art or love or religion or charityfor none of those things can be vivid realities to those who are swathed and stupefied in a luxury they have not to take the least thought to provide for themselves。 Like all those women； Josephine fancied herself complexfancied she was a person of variety and of depth because she repeated with a slight change of wording the things she read in clever books or heard from clever men。 There seemed to Norman to be small enough originality； personality； to the ordinary man of the comfortable class； but there was some； because his necessity of struggling with and against his fellow men in the several arenas of active life compelled him to be at least a little of a person。 In the women there seemed nothing at allnot even in Josephine。 When he listened to her； when he thought of her； nowhe was calmly critical。 He judged her as a human specimenjudged much as would have old Newton Hallowell to whom the whole world was mere laboratory。
She bored him nowand he made no effort beyond bare politeness to conceal the fact from her。 The situation was saved from becoming intolerable by that universal saver of intolerable situations； vanity。 She had the ordinary human vanity。 In addition； she had the peculiar vanity of woman； the creation of man's flatteries lavished upon the sex he alternately serves and spurns。 In further addition； she had the vanity of her classthe comfortable class that feels superior to the mass of mankind in fortune； in intellect； in taste； in everything desirable。 Heaped upon all these vanities was her vanity of high social rankand atop the whole her vanity of great wealth。 None but the sweetest and simplest of human beings can stand up and remain human under such a weight as this。 If we are at all fair in our judgments of our fellow men； we marvel that the triumphant classespecially the women； whose point of view is never corrected by the experiences of practical lifeare not more arrogant； more absurdly forgetful of the oneness and the feebleness of humanity。
Josephine was by nature one of the sweet and simple souls。 And her love for Norman； after the habit of genuine love； had destroyed all the instinct of coquetry。 The womanor； the manhas to be indeed interesting； indeed an individuality； to remain interesting when sincerely in love； and so elevated above the petty but potent sex trickeries。 Josephine； deeply in love； was showing herself to Norman in her undisguised natural sweet simplicityand monotony。 But； while men admire and reverence a sweet and simple feminine soul and love her in plays and between the covers of a book and when she is talking highfaluting abstractions of moralityand wax wroth with any other man who ignores or neglects herthey do not in their own persons become infatuated with her。 Passion is too much given to moods for that； it has a morbid craving for variety； for the mysterious and the baffling。
The only thing that saves the race from ruin through passion is the rarity of those by nature or by art expert in using it。 Norman felt that he was paying the penalty for his persistent search for this rarity； one of the basest tricks of destiny upon man is to give him what he wantswealth； or fame； or power； or the wom… an who enslaves。 Norman felt that destiny had suddenly revealed its resolve to destroy him by giving him not one of the things he wanted； but all。
The marriage was not quite two weeks away。 About the time that the ordinary plausible excuses for Norman's neglect； his abstraction； his seeming indifference were exhausted； Josephine's vanity came forward to explain everything to her； all to her own glory。 As the elysian hour approachedso vanity assured herthe man who loved her as her complex soul and many physical and social advantages deserved was overcome with that shy terror of which she had read in the poets and the novelists。 A large income； fashionable attire and surroundings； a carriage and a maidthese things gave a woman a subtle and superior intellect and soul。 How？ Why？ No one knew。 But everyone admitted； indeed saw； the truth。 Further； these beingsthese great ladiesaccording to all the accredited poets； novelists； and other final authorities upon lifealways inspired the most awed and worshipful and diffident feelings in their lovers。 Therefore； shethe great ladywas getting but her due。 She would have liked something else something common and humanmuch better。 But； having always led her life as the conventions dictated； never as the common human heart yearned； she had no keen sense of dissatisfaction to rouse her to revolt and to question。 Also； she was breathlessly busy with trousseau and the other arrangements for the grand wedding。
One afternoon she telephoned Norman asking him to come on his way home that evening。 〃I particularly wish to see you；〃 she said。 He thought her voice sounded rather queer； but he did not take sufficient interest to speculate about it。 When he was with her in the small drawing room on the second floor； he noted that her eyes were regarding him strangely。 He thought he understood why when she said：
〃Aren't you going to kiss me； Fred？〃
He put on his good…natured； slightly mocking smile。 〃I thought you were too busy for that sort of thing nowadays。〃 And he bent and kissed her waiting lips。 Then he lit a cigarette and seated himself on the sofa beside herthe sofa at right angles to the open fire。 〃Well？〃 he said。
She gazed into the fire for full a minute before she said in a voice of constraint； 〃What became of that that girlthe Miss Hallowell〃
She broke off abruptly。 There was a pause choked with those dizzy pulsations that fill moments of silence and strain。 Then with a sob she flung herself against his breast and buried her face in his shoulder。 〃Don't answer！〃 she cried。 〃I'm ashamed of myself。 I'm ashamedashamed！〃
He put his arm about her shoulders。 〃But why shouldn't I answer？〃 said he in the kindly gentle tone we can all assume when a ma