He was a little startled, as by an odd coincidence, when his wife asked: “Shall I read you a story? The new magazines have come.” But really it was no coincidence at all, for she knew that he liked magazine stories and enjoyed being read to in the evenings. The thing had happened many times before; nevertheless, it was a little strange to be listening to such a story, while in and out of his mind there flashed bright memories of another story. “Why always the South Seas, I wonder?” his wife paused to remark, looking up from the big chair where she sat with the magazine in her lap. “I suppose it _is_ a more romantic place.” “Yes, perhaps,” he said. He had talked to that girl last night about the South Seas; he had said he would like to take her there to see the strange birds and flowers. And she had told him about Venice. And while they talked of sailboats and gondolas, they were sitting on a garden bench. “He gets the romantic atmosphere rather well, doesn’t he?” said his wife. “I think I can guess which one of the girls he is going to fall in love with, the one with the red hibiscus flower in her hair. What do you think?” “Very likely,” he agreed. Who was she, the girl of last night’s story? He couldn’t guess. She wasn’t young, as girls in stories are; there were even tragic lines marring the beauty of what had been a lovely face. But her eyes were incredibly young--the eyes of a child, full of wild dreams. Perhaps, in her ordinary life, she was some one quite different from what she had been that night--as different as he had been from his ordinary self. None of his friends would have recognized _him_ as the romantic wanderer whom she had held for a moment in her arms. He had even quoted poetry to her. _On such a night as this_--Well, he didn’t care; it had not been sham. It was another part of himself. And she? It did not matter what she was to her friends. Last night she had been his strange and lovely playmate. His wife looked up from the magazine. “A little improbable, don’t you think?” Many things were improbable, he reflected. That room last night, with its flowers and tall candles.