“I wonder—I wonder if we shall ever get like that. 148 “Sure. “In Paris your sister appeared to me to be a charming student of frivolity. You want industry—you want steadiness. Either we go forth together, or they shall bury me. "Who's that queer cove in the full-bottomed wig?" "Attend to me, sirrah," rejoined Wild, sternly. Her husband finally relented. ‘And she’s—’ She broke off, a sudden light in her eyes. The fellow is little better than a lunatic. She was struck by a change in his appearance. His eyes were narrow with desire like a panther’s as he grinned at seeing her visibly satisfied. One comes at last to the step from dreams to reality. “Oh God!” she cried, “Oh God!” and flung aside her opera-cloak, and for a time walked about the room—a Corsair’s bride at a crisis of emotion. .
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