On one occasion Will brought his star to see the minute whirling figure the sculptor had but recently completed in refutation of the criticism that his work was effective only in large design. Posing as a _connoisseur_, the lady had expressed the wish to see John's work. I think I hated her at first glance. There was something snake-like even in the movement of her body and in the craning of her long, thin neck from which a sharp jaw projected. She fascinated while she repelled. Being temperamentally reserved in the presence of strangers--and the lady temperamentally interested in the opposite sex--I had an opportunity to study her. My scrutiny was not unobserved. Indeed, she was always conscious of self, though apparently not self-conscious. In the act of taking her leave she stopped quite suddenly and addressed herself to me: "And so you are _Meesus_ Hartley.... What fine eyes you have ... such ... what _ees_ the word? Yes, tangled, tangled depths ... and the shadows!... If I were a man I should make love to _Meesus_ Hartley...." She shot a glance at John Gailbraith, then dropped her lids over her eyes. But the suggestion was not lost. It was not meant to be. "Madame has a pleasing way of expressing herself," I drawled, meeting the much affected wide baby stare of her orbs with a like expression. Suggestion is insidiously effective. From the moment my husband's star had dropped the seed--thoughtlessly or maliciously, who shall say?--it took root. The calm surface over which I had been gliding during the past months ruffled and disturbed my equilibrium. The old _camaraderie_ between John Gailbraith and me gave way to self-consciousness on my part. I felt what I imagined might have been the sensation which overwhelmed Mother Eve after eating of the Tree of Knowledge. For the first time during our intercourse I looked upon John Gailbraith as man--myself, woman. I caught myself expecting, anticipating, parrying any indication on his part which might be construed as a prelude to tenderness. My attitude became constrained, unnatural; his, more gracious, gentle, tactful. Perhaps he analyzed my mood as the natural result of gossip which connected my husband's name with that of the "star." That he pitied me heaped coals of fire upon my head--and his. I was glad of the opportunity which took him to Washington in response to a letter from a prospective patron and left me to myself.