"Why, it isn't that. He needn't be smirking at me the way he does. I simply won't stand it. Besides, he makes eyes at me wherever I go, just to advertise the fact that he's silly about me. He's a cad, through and through. Would you come here as he does if I refused to invite your wife?" Chauncy Wilson laughed again, leaning forward to knock the ashes out of his pipe. "He's a fool, fast enough; and I dare say you're tired of his beastly spooning; but all the same, the real reason for this circus is that you want to amuse yourself." She drew up her head in mock dignity. "Of course," she returned, "if my own husband does not appreciate how I resent"--She broke off in a burst of laughter. "Nobody ever understood me but you, Chauncy," she cried. "Good-by. It's time I took the stage." She threw him a kiss, and went to the drawing-room. Looking at her watch, she placed herself behind the curtains of a window which commanded the avenue. Presently she espied her victim, and with a last glance around to assure herself that everything was as she wished it to be, she mounted to the top of the piano. There she hastily tucked the hem of her skirt between the piano and the wall. The reflection in a great blue-black Chinese jar showed her when Rangely appeared between the portieres, so that she was able to step back as if to view the effect of her work just as he reached the middle of the room. "Be careful!" exclaimed he, hurrying forward. "You almost stepped off backward!" She wheeled about quickly. "O Mr. Rangely!" she cried. "How did you get into the room without my knowing? How horrid of you to surprise me like that!" "But think how charming it is for me," he responded with an elaborate air of gallantry. "It is so delightful to see you on a pedestal." "Meaning that I am no better than a graven image?" she demanded with a smile. "If that is the best you can do, I may as well come down." She held out her hand for his, and then sat down, displaying one of the fascinating slippers, and the openwork instep of her silk stocking, through the meshes of which the pearly skin gleamed evasively. "My dress is caught," she said, turning to conceal her face, and pretending to pull at her skirt. "I hope my slippers haven't damaged the piano." "The piano is harder than my heart if they haven't!" She gave a sly twitch at a hairpin. "That is very pretty," observed she, giving her head a shake that brought her hair down in a rolling billow. "Oh, dear! Now my hair has"-- Before she could finish he had dropped her fingers, and gathered her hair in both hands, kissing it again and again. "Mr. Rangely!" she exclaimed. "What do you mean?" For reply he stooped to her foot, and kissed the mesh-clad instep fervidly. "How dare you!" she cried, scrambling down hastily without his assistance.