"Great God!" exclaimed Jadwin, ignorant of the words yet, in spite of himself, carried away by the fury and passion of her rendering.
Laura struck her palms together.
"Just what 'Abner' says," she cried. "The very words."
"Abner?"
"In the play. I knew I could make you feel it."
"Well, well," murmured her husband, shaking his head, bewildered even yet. "Well, it's a strange wife I've got here."
"When you've realised that," returned Laura, "you've just begun to understand me."
Never had he seen her gayer. Her vivacity was bewildering.
"I wish," she cried, all at once, "I wish I had dressed as 'Carmen,' and I would have danced for you. Oh, and you could have played the air for me on the organ. I have the costume upstairs now. Wait! I will, I will! Sit right where you are—no, fix the attachment to the organ while I'm gone. Oh, be gay with me to-night," she cried, throwing her arms around him. "This is my night, isn't it? And I am to be just as foolish as I please."
With the words she ran from the room, but was back in an incredibly short time, gowned as Bizet's cigarette girl, a red rose in her black hair, castanets upon her fingers.