78 fishes of Incense

compensated for your exalted attitude, Mrs. Sar-
gent, as I have been for the motive that led me
here. Good afternoon.”

“It does no good to sneer at me,” rebuked
Doroféee, as he bowed to her. “I dare say your
motive, misguided as it was, held the seed of a
good intention. Good afternoon, Mr. Temple-
Waite. If I don’t see you again,” she called after
him suddenly, “knowing you has been most in-
teresting.”

“And that is quite true, Simon, my angel,” as
Templewaite’s stiff shoulders disappeared within
the inner court; “it has been most interesting. It
will have been more interesting when I detail that
last conversation to Paula, to-morrow.” Doro-
fée wrinkled up her tiny nose in an access of en-
joyment. “When I tell Paula all about her hus-
band’s cruel suspicions, and how staunchly, how
loyally I defended her! Oh 1a! la!” Again the
low, delicious chuckle. “When I tell her, tim-
idly but quite positively, that I think it really dan-
gerous to live with such a man—he might, out
of his insane jealousy, even nzurder her! Murder
her—you hear, Simon? hlurder her, ha! ha!”
The frilly rose dimity bunched itself into a par-
oxysm of amusement.

Then, looking up, Dorofée saw Akmed—he