smoke rings toward her. She was magnificent in her anger, her
cheeks burned crimson, her dark eyes had an ominous gleam in them
and her curved lips straightened into a determined line of
scarlet. Her muscles were strained and tense, her breath came
quickly, yet she had full control of herself and her pose was
that of a crouching, waiting tiger rather than a furious ode.

Embury was full of admiration at the beautiful picture she made,
but pursuant of his inexorable plan, he rose to "tame" her.

"'Tiger, tiger, burning bright,'" he quoted, "you must take back
that speech--it is neither pretty nor tactful--"

"I have no wish to be tactful! Why should I? I am not trying to
coax or cajole you! You refuse my request--you have repeatedly
refused me--now, I am at the end of my patience, and I shall take
matters into my own hands!"

"Lovely hands!" he murmured, taking them in his own. "You have
unusually pretty hands, Eunice; it would be a pity to use them to
earn money."

"Yet that is my intention. I shall get money by the work of
these hands. It will be in a way that you will not approve, but
you have forfeited your right to approve or disapprove."

"That I have not! I am your husband--you have promised to obey
me--"

"A mere form of words--it meant nothing!"