From the hall Lane heard him say to Helen: "Dick'll sure go to the mat with you for this." Presently Helen returned to shut the door behind her; and her walk toward Lane had a suggestion of the oriental dancer.

For Lane her face was a study.

This seemed a woman beyond his comprehension.

She was the Helen Wrapp he had known and loved, plus an age of change, a measureless experience.

With that swaying, sinuous, pantherish grace, with her green eyes narrowed and gleaming, half mocking, half serious, she glided up to him, close, closer until she pressed against him, and her face was uplifted under his.