creeping spy of his own dishonor! He turned with a bitter smile again to the gar- den. A few dark red Castilian roses still leaned forward and swayed in the wind with dripping leaves. It was here that the first morning of his arrival he had kissed Susy; the perfume and color of her pink skin came back to him with a sudden shock as he stood there; he caught at a flower, drew it to~ wards him, inhaled its odor in a long breath that left him faint and leaning against the wall. Then again he smiled, but this time more wickedly - in what he believed his cynicism had sprung up the first instinct of revenge!

It was now dark enough for him to ven- ture across the carriage road and make his way to the rear of the house. His first characteristic instinct had been to enter openly at his own front gate, but the terri- ble temptation t0 overhear and watch the conspiracy unobserved that fascination common to deceived humanity to witness its own shame —had now grown upon him. He knew that a word or gesture of explana- tion, apology, appeal, or even terror from his wife would check his rage and weaken his purpose. His perfect knowledge of the