But, alas, even trickery is not always successful in this uncertain world! The hold of the piano upon the hem of her gown was stronger than she realized. She tripped and stumbled, half-hung for a second, and then dropped in an inglorious heap at the feet of the man she wished to humiliate. Elsie was on her feet in a minute. She did not take the hand which Rangely extended, but drew back, her eyes sparkling with rage. "Oh, you find it laughable, do you?" she cried. "A gentleman would at least have concealed his amusement!" He grew suddenly grave, and seemed not a little surprised. "I beg your pardon," he said. "I hope you were not hurt." She looked at him scornfully without replying, and then walked to the mantel, where there was a small antique mirror of silver. "Thank you, not in the least." Her tone was no warmer than an arctic night. She gathered her hair, and began to twist it up. He followed and stood behind her with an air at once deprecatory and insinuating. "I shouldn't think you could see in that thing," he observed. She took no notice of his words. "If I laughed," continued he, "it was only from nervousness. I was carried away"-- "I observed that you were," she interrupted icily. He stood awkwardly a moment, while she finished putting up her hair. Then, as she turned toward him, he smiled again, holding out his hand. "Surely you are not angry with me," he pleaded. "I care more for your feeling toward me than for anything else in the world." "It would amuse Mrs. Rangely to hear you say so, not to mention my husband." He stared at her with the air of a man not sure whether he is awake or dreaming. "What are they to us?" he asked, sinking his voice almost to a whisper. "Mrs. Rangely may be nothing to you, but Dr. Wilson is still a good deal to me, thank you." He looked at her again with perplexity in his glance, but with his face hardening. "You surely cannot mean that you have ceased to care for me just for a second of meaningless laughter?" She swept him a scornful courtesy. "You do these things better in your novels, Mr. Rangely, which shows what an advantage it is to have time to think speeches over. I wouldn't have my hero say a thing like that, if I were you. It would make him seem like a conceited cad." The insolence of her manner was such as no man could bear. Rangely crimsoned to the temples. He paced across the room, while she coolly seated herself in a great Venetian chair, and began to play with a little jade image. He came back to her, and stood a moment as if he could not find words. "Why don't you go?" she asked, looking up at him as if he were a servant sent upon an errand. "Because," he broke out angrily, "when I go I shall not come back; and I should like to understand this thing." She shrugged her shoulders, and leaned back in her chair, looking him over from head to foot.