This was irregular. He had, he felt, to create certain ideas and vivify certain curiosities and feelings in her. But this was but a momentary gleam of personal application, and at this time she followed it up no further. It had been easy to steal. “Want to see my fangs?” She asked. As a matter of fact it isn’t their affair. That her husband was not touching her anymore grew to be like a disease, something to be cured. To-night she could have hugged both the old maids. ” “You have it,” he declared confidently. From the threshold she looked her accuser steadily and coldly in the face. . But this revulsion was engulfed by the succeeding waves of pity and understanding.
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