These acting people, they're not real folks. I don't savvy their ways and they don't savvy mine. They always end by disliking me because I'm queer and different from them. You have been my friend, and your wife--that is, she used to be." Suddenly Jane became more her usual self and spoke with childlike wistfulness. "She doesn't come to see me any more, Mr. Morena. And I could love her. She's so like a little girl with those round eyes--" Jane held up two circles made by forefingers and thumbs to represent Betty's round eyes. "Oh, dear!"

she said; "isn't she awfully winning? Seems as if you must be taking care of her. She's so small and fine."

Jasper laughed with some bitterness.

"She doesn't like me now," sighed Jane, but the feelings Betty had hurt were connected with a later development so that they turned her mood and brought her to a more normal dejection. She was no longer a caged beast, she had temporarily forgotten her bars.

"I think you're wrong," said Jasper doubtfully. "Betty does like you.

She's merely busy and preoccupied. I've been neglected myself."

Jane gave him a far too expressive look. It was as though she had said, "You don't fancy that she cares for you?"

Jasper flushed and blinked his long, Oriental eyes.

"It's a pity you haven't a lover, Jane," he said.

She had walked over to the window, and his speech, purposely a trifle cruel and insulting, did not make her turn.

"You're angry," she said. "You'd better go home. I'm not in good humor myself."

At which he laughed his murmuring, musical laugh and prepared to leave her.

"I have a great deal of courage," he said, getting into his coat, "to bring a wild-cat here, chain her up, and tease her--eh?"

"You think you have me chained?" Her tone was enraged and scornful. "I can snap your flimsy little tether and go."

She wheeled upon him. She looked tall and fierce and free.

"No, no," he cried with deprecating voice and gesture. "You are making Mr. Luck's fortune and mine, not to mention your own. You mustn't break your chains. Get used to them. We all have to, you know. It's much the best method."

"I shall never get used to this life, never. It just--somehow--isn't mine."

"Perhaps when you meet Mr. Luck, he'll be able to reconcile you."

Her expressive face darkened. "When shall I meet Mr. Luck?"

"Soon, I hope. Mr. Melton knows just when to announce the authorship."

"I hate Mr. Luck more than any one in the world," she said in a low, quiet voice.

Jasper stared. "Hate him! Why, in the name of savagery, should you hate him?"

"Oh, I can't explain. But you'd better keep us apart. How came he to write 'The Leopardess'?"

"I shall leave him to tell you that. Good-night."

CHAPTER IX

GRAY ENVELOPES

It was with more than the usual sinking of heart that Jasper let himself that evening into the beautiful house which Betty and he called their home. Joan's too expressive look had stung the old soreness of his disillusionment. He knew that the house was empty of welcome. He took off his hat and coat dejectedly. There were footsteps of his man who came from the far end of the hall.

While he stood waiting, Jasper noticed the absence of a familiar fragrance. For the first time in years Betty had forgotten to order flowers. The red roses which Jasper always caressed with a long, appreciative finger as he went by the table in the hall, were missing.

Their absence gave him a faint sensation of alarm.

"Mr. Kane, Mrs. Morena's brother, has called to see you, sir. He is waiting."

Jasper's eyebrows rose. "To see me? Is he with Mrs. Morena now?"

"No, sir. Mrs. Morena went out this morning and has not yet returned.

Mr. Kane has been here since five o'clock, sir."

"Very well."

It was a mechanical speech of dismissal. The footman went off. Jasper stood tapping his chin with his finger. Woodward Kane come to see him during Betty's absence! Woodward had not spoken more than three or four icy words of necessity to him since the marriage. After a stiff, ungracious fashion this brother had befriended Betty, but to his Jewish brother-in-law he had shown only a slightly disguised distaste. The Jew was well used to such a manner. He treated it with light bitterness, but he did not love to receive the users of it in his own house. It was with heightened color and bent brows that he pushed apart the long, crimson hangings and came into the immense drawing-room.

It was softly lighted and pleasantly warmed. A fire burned. The tall, fair visitor rose from a seat near the blaze and turned all in one rigid piece toward his advancing host. Jasper was perfectly conscious that his own gesture and speech of greeting were too eager, too ingratiating, that they had a touch of servility. He hated them himself, but they were inherited with his blood, as instinctive as the wagging of a dog's tail. They were met by a precise bow, no smile, no taking of his outstretched hand.

Jasper drew himself up at once, put the slighted hand on the back of a tall, crimson-damask chair, and looked his stateliest and most handsome self.

"Betty hasn't come in yet," he said. "You've been waiting for her?"

Woodward Kane pulled at his short, yellow mustache and stared at Jasper with his large, blank, blue eyes. "As a matter of fact I didn't call to see my sister, but to see you. I have just come from Elizabeth. She is at my house. She came to me this morning."

Jasper's fingers tightened on the chair. "She is sick?"

"No." There was a pause during which the blank, blue eyes staring at him slowly gathered a look of cold pleasure. Jasper was aware that this man who hated him was enjoying his present mission.

"Shall we sit down? I shall have to take a good deal of your time, I am afraid. There is rather a good deal to be gone over."

Jasper sat down in the chair the back of which he had been holding.

"Will you smoke?" he asked, and smiled his charming smile.

There was now not a trace of embarra.s.sment, anger, or anxiety about him. His eyes were quiet, his voice flexible. Woodward declined to smoke, crossed his beautifully clothed legs and drew a small gray envelope from his pocket. Jasper's eyes fastened upon it at once. It was Betty's paper and her angular, boyish writing marched across it.

Evidently the note was addressed to him. He waited while Woodward turned it about in his long, stiff, white fingers.

"About two months ago Betty came to me one evening in great distress of mind. She asked for my advice and to the best of my ability I gave it to her. I wish that she had asked for it ten years ago. She might have saved herself a great deal. This time she has not only asked for it, but she has been following it, and, in following it, she has now left your house and come to mine. This, of course, will not surprise you."

"It does, however, surprise me greatly." It was still the gentle murmur, but Jasper's cigarette smoke veiled his face.

"I cannot understand that. However, it's not my business. Betty has asked me to interview you to-day so that she may be spared the humiliation. After this, you must address your communications to her lawyers. In a short time Rogers and Daring will serve you with notice of divorce."

Jasper sat perfectly still, leaning slightly forward, his cigarette between his fingers.

"So-o!" he said after a long silence. Then he held out his hand. "I may have Betty's letter?"