Mariana placed one finger to her lips, and then applied it lightly to the iron she held in her hand. "I do hope I won't scorch it," she observed. "Oh, do give me that blanket! It must be ironed on a blanket to make the flowers stand out. Aren't they natural?" She lifted her heated face and glanced at him for approbation. "I feel like plucking them," returned Algarcife. "Don't tire yourself. Good-bye." And he passed into the next room and closed the door. Mariana ironed the centre-piece, wrapped it in yellow tissue-paper, and carried it to an exchange for women's work around the corner. It was placed in a glass-case amid a confusion of similar articles, where it languished for the space of several months. At the end of that time she redeemed it. The failure of the enterprise precipitated an attack of hysteria, which spent itself in Anthony's arms and left her resigned and exhausted. "I can't do anything to help you," she observed, hopelessly. "I hoped to clear at least fifteen dollars from that centre-piece, and, instead, I lost five. I shall always be an encumbrance." "You are my beloved counsellor." "My love isn't of much use, and you never take my advice." "But I like to listen to it." Mariana rested her head upon his shoulder and closed her eyes. "I am only a luxury," she said, "like wine or cigars, but it wouldn't be pleasant to dispense with me, would it?" "It would be death." She sighed contentedly, her hand wandered across his brow. There was a faint, magnetic force in her finger-tips which left a burning sensation like that caused by a slightly charged electric current. "I made you marry me, you know," she remarked, complacently, "so I am glad you don't regret it." "Nonsense," remonstrated Algarcife, his lips upon her hair, the warm contact of her body inducing a sense of nearness. "I married you by force. I quite took your breath away. If you had resisted, I should have had you whether or no." "Oh, but I did make you," returned Mariana. "But there was nothing else to do. I couldn't possibly have gone home, and I did love you so distractedly." "As you do now." "As I do now. Of course I must have known that rushing to you that night with the letter was just like a proposal of marriage." "It was, rather," concluded Algarcife. "But you needn't have married me unless you wanted to," urged Mariana. "There was Mr. Paul--" Anthony laughed. "I was a vicarious sacrifice," he declared, "to insure the peace of Mr. Paul." The next day Algarcife received an unexpected sum of money, and they agreed to celebrate their rising fortunes by a night at the opera. It was "Tannhauser," and Mariana craved music. "I am afraid it is improvident," Anthony, whom the opera bored, remarked, dubiously; then looking into Mariana's wistful face, he recanted. "It doesn't matter," he added. "A little extravagance won't affect the probability of future starvation. We will go."