When her husband started for his office he gave Parilee his accustomed farewell kiss. To him it was the same as usual, but to her it seemed slightly insipid; the dream kiss was still upon her lips.
“It is because we have been married so long; I have grown used to him,” she reasoned when left alone. “I love Harry, and always shall.” Then she sat down by the window, looked far away into space, and went over the dream again.
“I wonder where Tom is now,” she questioned in her thought. “Probably married by this time.” A disagreeable feeling went to her heart. “He loved me before I met Harry. What changes time brings.” And she mused on.
Olga Arnold.
THE NEW CIRCE.
No islet-kingdom has this fair-haired one,
Of drugs no knowledge, philtres brews not she,
Yet many self-sure men has she undone
By her own ways of pleasant sorcery.