He remembered always having written it down that beautiful women were even more beautiful in anger. How, he wondered, had he fallen into that error?
"Please do not bore me," she said through her teeth, "with any further recital of what you are going to do. You seem to have a fatal facility in that line. Your record of accomplishment is pathetically weak. And—oh, what a fool I've been! I believed. Even after last night, I believed."
No, she was not going to cry. Hers was no mood for tears. What said the librettist? "There is beauty in the roaring of the gale, and the tiger when a-lashing of his tail." Such was the beauty of a woman in anger. And nothing to get enthusiastic about, thought Mr. Magee.
"I know," he said helplessly, "you're terribly disappointed. And I don't blame you. But you will find out that you've done me an injustice. I'm going—"
"One thing," said she, smiling a smile that could have cut glass, "you are going to do. I know that you won't fail this time, because
