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so kindly, he could not help feeling that secretly, somewhere in the depths of her unexplored, mysterious mind, she resented this intrusion into their busy life of his weakness, his pitiful inability to follow where she led.

"Very well," he said. He added, trying to make his voice sound casual: "Lina, forgive me for worrying you when we are both tired, but I would so much like to ask you something—you are still fond of me, aren't you? You don't regret our—our marriage?"

"Oh, really!"

She got up from the floor with the swift litheness that always gave him so much pleasure, walked across to the window and began to unbind the dark plait of her hair.

' Really," she said again, shaking her locks loose over her shoulders, "you are very bad, you know, and I shall have to scold you. . . . Listen, then, to this! Every day that we spend together increases my affection for you. that's a pretty speech, but I mean it with all my heart! And now listen to something else. ... I want you, if you come down to the theater, to speak to Weiss. Please teil him that he can't turn an adagio into an allegro, and that even if he could do such a thing, no one could dance to it."

Rosing protested wearily: "Weiss said last night that it is you yourself who have a mania for altering the tempo. And you know, my dear, that sometimes you make it difficult for him to follow you."

"Oh, never mind now. Please go to sleep, if it is only to please me."

But she continued, half to herself: "It's Weiss who is to blame."

And her thoughts were far from Rosing.