manner of his. It was new; not a word, not a glance; I believed it
was carelessness, and resolved--merely for the sake of conquering, I
fancied, too--to change all that. By-and-by the beads dropped out of the
curl, as if they had been possessed of mischief and had held there of
themselves. He caught them.

"Here, Circe," he said.

That was the time I was so angry; for, at the second, he meant all it
comprehended. He saw, I suppose, for he added at once,--

"Or what was the name of the Witch of Atlas,

'The magic circle of whose voice and eyes
All savage natures did imparadise?'"

I wonder what made me think him mocking me. Frequently since then he has
called me by that name.

"I don't know much about geography," I said. "Besides, these didn't come
from there. Little Asian--the imp of my name, you remember--owned them."

"Ah?" with the utmost apathy; and turning to my father, "I saw the
painting that enslaved you, Sir," he said.

"Yes, yes," said papa, gleefully. "And then why didn't you make me a
copy?"

"Why?" Here he glanced round the room, as if he weren't thinking at all
of the matter in hand. "The coloring is more than one can describe,