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that threads flew in all directions. Then I seized a bottle of wine and flung it to the floor, with a terrible noise. I laughed again and cried: “O-oh! Gerry!” Then I overturned my chair and jumping on Mr. Gray’s knees, embracing him, I pressed my face to his, as though I was kissing him. He could not notice that I pushed the screen with my foot in the same moment. The screen fell and there I was, on “Gerry’s” lap!
    Many persons arose from their seats to look, and when I arose, pretending to be very vexed and ashamed—I stood face to face with Henry.
    I shall never forget his eyes. . . . We were silent. . . . “Irene . . . Irene,” he muttered.
    I pretended to be stricken, afraid, terrified the first minutes. Then I raised my head and looking at him with the greatest insolence: “Well?” I asked.
    He stepped back. He shuddered. He passed his hand over his eyes. Then he said slowly: “I will not disturb you.” He turned and walked to Mrs. Van Dahlen. “Let us go to another restaurant . . . Claire,” he said. They walked out. I followed them with my eyes, till they disappeared behind the door. That was all. . . .
    I was completely, deeply calm now. I turned to Mr. Gray. He had put the screen around our table again. “Do not grieve yourself, Mrs. Stafford,” he said. “It is for the best, perhaps.”
    “Yes, Mr. Gray, it is for the best,” I answered.
    We sat down and we finished our dinner, calmly and quietly. I had all my consciousness now. I spoke, and smiled, and flirted with him so gently, so graciously, that he was wholly charmed and forgot the wild scene. At half past ten I asked him to take me home. He was disappointed that our meeting was so short, but said nothing and courteously brought me to my house door, in an automobile. “Shall we meet again soon?” he asked, holding my hand in his.
    “Yes, very soon . . . and very often,” I answered. He went away, completely happy.
    I entered our apartment. I stood motionless, I could not tell for how long. . . . It was done. . . .
    I entered Henry’s study. I saw some papers on the floor and, picking them up, replaced them on the desk. A chair was pushed into the middle of the room—I put it back. I adjusted the pillows on the sofa. I put in order the plans and drawings that covered all the desk. His rulers, compasses, and other objects were thrown all over the room. I put them on the desk. I made a fire in the fireplace. . . . It was for the last time that I could do a wife’s duty for him.
    When there was nothing more to arrange, I went to the fireplace and sat on the floor. Henry’s armchair was standing by the fire, and there was a pillow near it, on which he put his feet. I did not dare to sit in the armchair. I lay on the floor and put my head on the pillow. . . . The wood was burning with a soft red glow in the darkness and a little crackling sound in the silence. I lay motionless, pressing the pillow to my lips. . . .
    I arose quickly when I heard a key turn in the entrance door’s lock. I went into the hall. Henry was pale, very pale. He did not look at me. He took off his hat and overcoat and hung them on the clothes peg. Then he walked to his study and, passing by me, looked at me with a long glance. He entered first; I followed him.
    We were silent for a long time. Then he spoke, sternly and coldly: “Will you explain to me anything?”
    “I have nothing to explain, Henry,” I answered. “You have seen.”
    “Yes,” he said, “I have seen.”
    He walked up and down the room, then stopped again. He smiled, a smile of disgust and hatred. “It was great!” he said. I did not answer. He trembled with fury. “You . . . you . . .” he cried, clasping his fists. “How could you?” I was silent. “And I called my wife during four years a woman like that!” He pressed his head. “You make me crazy! It is impossible! It is not you! You were not like this! You could not be like this!”
    I said nothing. He seized me by the