The sharp tap on Eveley’s window was followed by an impatient brushing aside of the curtains, and Miriam Landis swung gracefully over the sill in a cloud of chiffon and silk.

“Lem is waiting in the car,” she began quickly, “but I came up to show you my new gown. Are you nearly ready? Lem is so impatient, you know.” Fumbling with the fasteners of her wide cape she drew it back and revealed a bewilderingly beautiful creation beneath.

Eveley went into instant and honest raptures.

“Do you like it, Eveley? Am I beautiful in it?” There was a curious wistfulness in her voice, and Eveley studied her closely.

“Of course you are beautiful in it. You are a dream. You are irresistibly heavenly.”

“I wonder if Lem thinks so,” said Miriam, half breathlessly.

“Why, you little goose,” cried Eveley, forcing the laughter. “How could he think anything else? There, he is honking for us already. We must hurry—Why, Miriam, you silly, how could any one think you anything in the world but matchlessly wonderful in anything—especially in a dream like that?”

Miriam fastened her wrap again silently, and got carefully out through the window.

“Twelve steps,” cautioned Eveley. “You’d better count them, it is so dark, or you may stumble at the bottom.”

Miriam, clinging to the railing on one side, passed slowly down. “One, two, three, four, five, six.” Then she stopped and turned.

“Seven.” Looking somberly up to Eveley, standing above her, her face showing pale and sorry in the dim light, she said, “I have been married five years, Eve. You do not know what it is to spend five years struggling to maintain your charm for your husband. And never knowing whether you have failed or won. Always wondering why he finds more attraction in other women less beautiful and less clever. Always wondering, always afraid, trying to cling to what ought to be yours without effort. It isn’t funny, Eveley.” She turned slowly, to go on down, but Eveley laid a restraining hand on her arm.

“Five years? That is a long time,” she said in a tender voice. “It must almost be his turn now. Five years seems very long to me.”

Miriam passed on down the stairs, counting aloud, eight, nine, ten, and on to the last. At the last step she turned again.

“He is my husband, Eveley. One must do what is right.”

“Yes? Yet five years of duty does not seem to have brought you much happiness. At least you should not be selfish. You ought not to deny him the pleasure of doing his by you for the next five.” Then she added apologetically: “Forgive me, Miriam. You know I should never have mentioned this if you hadn’t spoken.”

Miriam clung to her hand as they felt their way carefully around the house, Lem in the machine still honking for them to hurry.

At the corner she paused again. “You are very clever, aren’t you, Eveley?”

“Well, yes, I rather think I am,” admitted Eveley.

“How would you go about it?”

“The way Lem does,” came the quick retort, and Miriam laughed, suddenly and lightly.

She was very quiet as they drove down Fifth Street. Only once she spoke.

“It was the seventh step, wasn’t it, Eveley?”

“Yes, the seventh.”

“The Revolution of the Seventh Step,” she said, laughing again.

This was nonsense to Lem Landis, but he did not ask questions. Women always talked such rot to each other. And he was wondering if Mrs. Cartle would surely be at the ball?

“The way Lem does.”

The words were startlingly sufficient. From five years of painful experience, Mrs. Landis knew how Lem did it. And so on this evening, as she stood beside him in a corner of the ballroom after their first greetings, and looked as he did with eager speculative eyes about the wide room, seeking, seeking, she felt a curious sympathy and harmony between herself and her husband. She knew without turning her head when the sudden brightening in his eyes came; and then he slowly made his way to the dim corner where Mrs. Cartle sat waiting.

But Miriam was not so quickly satisfied. There was Dan O’Falley, but his was such fulsome effrontery. There was Clifford Eggleton, but he had been a sweetheart of Miriam’s in the old days before Lem came, and that seemed hardly fair. There was Hal Jervis, but he was too utterly wax in woman’s hands to give her any semblance of thrill. Then her eyes rested on a profile in another corner of the room—a dark sleek head, a dark thin face, and the clear outline of one merry eye. Miriam appraised the head speculatively. Who in the world could it be? That merry eye looked very enticing. Ah, now she could see better—he was talking to the Merediths. Then the merry-eyed one was a stranger—so much the better, the uncertainty of him pleased her. She was very weary of those she knew so well. She moved happily that way, suddenly surprised to know that she was not at all concerned because her husband sat in the distant corner with Mrs. Cartle. She felt for him to-night only a whimsical comradeship. Stopping many times on her way to exchange a word and a smile, she finally drew near the corner where the sleek dark head and the merry eye had drawn her. Mrs. Meredith, seeing her, came to meet her, and drew her forward impulsively.

“Oh, Miriam, you must meet our friend, Mr. Cameron. He has only just come here to be with my husband in business, and we are going to love him, I know.” And so immediately Miriam found herself looking directly, and with great pleasure, full into the merry eyes. The gown was beautiful upon her, she knew it positively, whether Lem had been stirred by the vision or not.

“Oh, she is lovely enough,” said Billy Meredith plaintively. “But don’t be lured by her, Cameron. She is still in love with her husband.”

Miriam smiled at her victim with disarming friendliness. “But I like to be amused,” she said. “And I have been married long enough now to feel like playing again.”

Cameron laughed at that, and the laughter fulfilled the promise of the merry eye. Miriam was quite intoxicated with the game her husband had taught her. That Eveley was a clever little thing, wasn’t she?

“Suppose we dance then,” Cameron suggested eagerly. “It is the approved method of beginning to play.”

“We resign you to your fate,” sighed Billy Meredith once more. “I warned you, you laughed me to scorn. Now plunge and die.”

“He seems to think I am dangerous,” said Miriam, as they stepped lightly away to the call of the music.

“Well, far be it from me to say he is wrong. But I am sure you will prove a charming playfellow. You seem fairly to match my own mood. I suppose we can not climb trees and go nutting and fishing and wade in the creek as we might have done together years ago, but if you will be patient and teach me your way of playing in your ladyhood, I think you will find me an apt, and certainly a willing playmate.”

“Then let’s begin to-morrow night. Come to my house, and let’s play pool. It is the most reckless thing we can do. I have a sweet little friend and she has a deadly admirer, and they will come with us. She is very clever, too, and full of fun. See, that is she there, dancing—the one with the golden frock. Her name is Eveley Ainsworth and the solemn young man is Nolan Inglish, and they are unannounced but accepted sweethearts. You are not afraid of Friend Husband, then?”

“Not until Friend Husband gets afraid of me,” he said.

Later in the evening, as they were having ices in a wonderful nook in the ballroom, he said seriously, and with no laughter in the merry eyes:

“Are you trying to make a truant husband jealous? Just be frank with me, and I will do my best. I know you wanted a pal to-night. Do you mind telling me why?”

For a moment she hesitated. Then she smiled. “If my frankness loses me a pleasant comrade I shall regret my candor. But I do want to play fairly with you. So hear then the bitter truth. I have been married five years, and I have worked like a common slave to make myself beautiful and winsome and irresistible to my husband. And you know that a wife can’t do it, if the husband isn’t in the mind for it. And so to-night I am starting a revolution. I do not want to struggle forever. I want to play and be happy. I have no notion of making my husband jealous. That has not even occurred to me. I just want to be joyful—to learn to be joyful—regardless of him.”

“Then may I be a disagreeable old preacher, and say one thing? You know this may be fun, but sometimes it is dangerous. Human beings are not machines, and often they make mistakes and fall in love, when they had only meant to play. You would not find it at all pleasant to be married to one man, and in love with another. And maybe you would not enjoy having a husband and a lover in two persons, I am not trying to foretell the future, or make unpleasant predictions—I am only sounding the warning note.”

Miriam considered this very solemnly. Then she said: “Well, I think I should not mind. It does not seem to bother Lem to be married to me, and at the same time be involved in stirring friendships with other people.”

“Just one more sermon then, and I am through,” he said, laughing. “It is this. Men and women are very different. A man can play his head off with a dozen women, and still stay in love with his wife, and want no one but her. But a really nice woman, and you are awfully nice, can not have love-affairs without love. When she loves a man, she wants him, and will not have any one else. Your husband can have a dozen affairs, and still want you. But if you have a pleasant affair—you may not want your husband.”

“Well, of course, Mr. Preacher, one must take a chance. And it is to be only play, you know. That must be understood right in the start. I am really not a bit advanced nor modern, nor anything. I have no forward ideas in my head. I am just tired of trying to please my husband; I want some one to please me. It does not seem to offer you much for your pains, does it? But you may find me fairly amusing.”

“I am sure of it,” he agreed warmly. “And it is all settled, and we are going to play together. And if sometimes you get tired of me, and fire me off, I shall bob up serenely the next day and start over, just as we might have done when we were little children.”

When Miriam reported her progress in revolution to Eveley the next day, Eveley was greatly perturbed.

“You went too fast,” she said with a frown. “And besides—it is not fair. He isn’t married. He will fall in love with you.”

“Oh, no, we have a regular understanding,” said Miriam confidently. “It is all settled according to rules, and we are only going to play. Lem goes to his club to-night, and you and Nolan are to come and play pool with us. Doesn’t it sound emancipated and free?”

“Almost bolshevistic,” said Eveley grimly. “I do not approve of it—not exactly—though I do think you are justified. But it is so risky—and people talk—”

“Well, Eveley, I think it is better to have people say, ‘What do you think of the way Miriam Landis is carrying on?’ than ‘Isn’t Miriam Landis a little fool not to get next to her husband in all these years?’ Shouldn’t you?”

“Well, we’ll be there,” said Eveley evasively. “We’ll be right there. If he just wasn’t so good-looking, and sort of—decent? Why didn’t you pick out a roue? They are lots safer than these decent young chaps.”

Nolan, always a willing sacrifice when Eveley bade, joined them without demur, and a more rollickingly gay time they had never had. Even Eveley admitted that things seemed innocent and harmless enough, but she shook her head.

“He is too good,” she whispered to Miriam. “When he falls, he will fall hard. And if he is once in love, I have a feeling he will work like—like the dickens—and you haven’t much spinal column yourself, you know. And I do not believe in home wreckers, and things.”

Nolan, also, frankly disapproved.

“It doesn’t make any difference what kind of husband she’s got,” he said decidedly. “As long as he is her husband, it is her duty to stick to him and leave other men alone.”

“Don’t say duty to me,” said Eveley crossly. “Five years is long enough for any woman to do her duty. I think she is quite justified in giving Lem a good scare. Maybe he will wake up, and behave himself. But this Gordon is too good-looking, and too desperately nice. How can they play together like two children? You know what will happen.”

“I think it has already happened. He is head over heels right now, and she is not breaking her heart over Lem, either. I give them two weeks to develop a first-rate rash.”

“But Miriam believes in duty,” said Eveley hopefully. “Maybe that will save them. She would never elope with him, and I do not think he would even ask her, he is so sort of respectable and set.”

But Nolan was pessimistic. “Folks talk about duty until they fall in love, and then they forget it and everything else. And Lem has acted abominably. I thought she did not know it.”

“So did I. But—”

“Well, no use to worry. We’ll stick around with them and sort of boss the job. I am glad you invited them to the Cote to-morrow night.”

“And for supper, too. When Lem finds she is coming here for a supper party and he is left out, he may begin to think.”

“The trouble with Lem is, he can’t help himself. He loves Miriam all right, but women go to his head. He may get jealous and promise everything on heaven and earth, but he can’t keep his word.”

“Then he shouldn’t have married.”

“She should never have married him. When women understand that a man who can not look at a woman before marriage without making love to her—can’t do it afterward—they will save themselves a lot of trouble.”

“Well,” said Eveley hopefully. “No one can say you hurt yourself making love.”

So the playing went on, Nolan and Eveley acting as constant and merry chaperons, and the little grouping grew more and more congenial. Lem realized that a convulsion was going on in his home, and reformed desperately for days at a time, but a secluded corner and a lovely woman invariably set him pleading for forgiveness. Miriam always forgave him promptly and said it did not bother her; and was at first frightened, and then delighted, to know that it truly did not bother her any more.

Then one evening, Eveley had a mad telephone call from Lem, quickly followed by a flying rush to her little Cote.

“See what you’ve done,” he shouted, half-way through the window. “That is what comes of your interference. Miriam was the most contented woman on earth till you began feeding her up on this notion of revenge.”

“You sit down and talk sense, Lem Landis, or get out,” said Eveley. “Contented! She hasn’t known a contented day since she married you. You have had five years of jollying with other women. Now because another man smiles on her, you go into a rage and tear your hair. You make me sick.”

“Look here, Eveley, you got me into this, and you’ve got to get me out. I didn’t care how much they smiled. I thought at first it was a put-up job to make me jealous, and I laughed at it. But it has gone too far.”

“Everything is all right,” said Eveley soothingly. “They are just playing. Nolan and I are with them all the time. There is nothing serious between them.”

“Don’t be a fool,” he said rudely. “You know that men and women can’t play like kids. Miriam wants a divorce.”

Eveley sat down and swallowed hard.

“A divorce,” he raged, champing wildly up and down the small room. “She says there is nothing between them, and she does not love him, but she can’t stand me any more. Why can’t she stand me? She stood me for five years. What’s come over her all of a sudden that she says it makes her sick to kiss me? She won’t even let me hold her hand. She says it is blasphemous. Blasphemy to touch my own wife’s hand! You know what that means, don’t you? She is in love with that—that—”

“You can’t swear here,” Eveley broke in quickly. “I won’t have it. I think you are mistaken, Lem. She doesn’t want a divorce. Not really. She wouldn’t, you know.”

“But she does, I tell you. She says it is sacrilege to live with me, and so she is going off by herself to desert me, and says I’ve got to get a divorce on those grounds when the time is up, or heaven only knows what she’ll do. Now, you got us into this mess, and you’ve got to stop it.”

“I’ll do what I can, Lem,” she promised. “And so will Nolan. But between you and me, I do not blame her. I wouldn’t have lived with you two months, myself.”

“I have never wanted another woman in my life,” he said brokenly. “It has always been Miriam with me from the very minute I saw her. I have fooled around a lot, I know, but it’s always been Miriam for serious.”

“Yes,” she said bitterly. “That is it. It is just as Gordon says. A man can fool around and still love his wife. But a nice woman can’t. She is strong for one man—at a time. When she falls for a new one, it is all off with the last. You could love a dozen at a time, but Miriam is too nice for that.”

“But you promised—”

“Oh, yes, I’ll do what I can, and I will advise her to stick it out, but I think she will be very foolish if she takes my advice.”

Nolan was immediately summoned, and a desperate struggle began with Miriam. But it was really no struggle.

“Why, Eveley,” she said reproachfully, “I am surprised at you. Can’t you see that a woman can not live with a man she dislikes? It makes the shivers run down my back when he touches me. It—isn’t nice. It—makes me feel like—well, not at all right. You can see that, can’t you, Nolan?”

“I am afraid I can.”

“But he is your husband,” protested Eveley. “Isn’t it your place as his wife to—to—”

“Do you mean my duty, dear?” asked Miriam, smiling faintly. “I am surprised at you, Eve. No dear, it isn’t. Your theory that duty is happiness is half right. But a woman has one other duty also—self-respect. I am all packed up, dear, and going to-morrow. You do not mind my not leaving my address, do you? I want to go off very quietly by myself. I do not want Gordon to know. I am afraid he will blame himself for it. You will make him see that it was not he, at all, won’t you? And after it is all over, I shall write, or maybe come to see you. You will ask him not to look for me, won’t you? There has not been a thing serious between us, Eveley, you believe that, don’t you?”

“Of course I do. I know it. I’ve chaperoned you two till I am fairly sick of it.”

Miriam smiled again. “Be sure to tell him everything I said, will you?”

Nolan and Eveley were very quiet after she had gone. And Eveley cried a little.

“I hope she will be happy,” she said tearfully.

“She will be. Gordon will wait for her, and not crowd her. He is like me. He can talk to a woman without loving her.”

“You can, at least.”

“At least, I do not talk about it all the time,” he amended. “What I mean is that his affection is for the one, and not for the sex.”

“Do you think she did right, Nolan?”

“I do not think it is my duty to judge,” he evaded cleverly. “She had one chance for happiness, and she lost. Now she is to have one more. We are her friends, and we love her. We can not begrudge her one more opportunity, can we?”

“No indeed, and you put it very nicely,” she said more comfortably. “Isn’t it nice that we do not believe in duty? But we shall miss them. They were very nice playmates for us, as well as for each other—Nolan, there was something sort of sweet about Lem, after all? Something very human and lovable and—but of course it was Miriam’s duty to be happy.”