The child’s eyes were fixed upon the hazy outline of “The Slopes,” just visible in that shimmery air beyond the Public Gardens and the railway. “Oh, don’t talk about it, Wolf! Jason and I never talk about it. Jason says the only nice part of it will be the wine. They’re going to have Sauterne.”

Wolf began to realize that Mattie’s nature was not one that a love-affair expands and widens. It dawned upon him that this little Malakite waif was being thrown more and more upon the indulgence of Jason.

The child’s mood this afternoon was evidently wistful. She seemed to take Wolf’s sympathy for granted; and now, with her hand in his, after uttering the word “Sauterne,” she relapsed into silence.

He too was silent, repeating to himself an imaginary dialogue with Gerda, over their tea in the kitchen. The disagreeable thought came into his head, “Shall I feel any difference when I lie by her side tonight?”

“Wolf!” The little girl’s voice had a solemn intensity, and she stared at him with grave eyes.