And once more, like a torrent, the old infatuation sprang from its dried sources and came rushing and overwhelming through vein and nerve.  “Am I mad now?—­was I mad a few moments ago?—­is it she or is it my own disordered senses?”

She was drawing on her gloves, was unconscious of his confusion.  He controlled himself and said:  “You have a most disconcerting way of changing your appearance.”

She glanced down at her costume.  “No, it’s the same dress.  I’ve only the one, you know.”

He longed to take her in his arms, but could not trust himself.  And this wonder-girl, his very own, was talking of leaving him!  And he—­not an hour before—­he, apparently in his right senses had been tolerating such preposterous talk!  Give her up?  Never!  He must see to it that the subject did not find excuse for intruding again.  “I have frightened her—­have disgusted her.  I must restrain myself.  I must be patient—­and teach her slowly—­and win her gradually.”

They spent an interesting and even exciting afternoon, driving from shop to shop and selecting the first beginnings of her wardrobe.  He had only about three hundred dollars.  Some of the things they ordered were ready for delivery, and so had to be paid for at once.  When they returned to the hotel he had but fifty dollars left—­and had contracted debts that made it necessary for him to raise at least a thousand dollars within a week.  He saw that his freedom with sums of money which terrified her filled her with awe and admiration—­and that he was already more successful than he had expected to be, in increasing her hesitation about leaving him.  Among the things they had bought were a simple black chiffon dress and a big plumed black hat to match.  These needed no alterations and were delivered soon after they returned.  Some silk stockings came also and a pair of slippers bought for the dinner toilet.

“You can dress to-night,” said he, “and I’ll take you to Sherry’s, and to the theater afterwards.”

She was delighted.  At last she was going to look like the women of whom she had been dreaming these last few months.  She set about dressing herself, he waiting in the sitting room in a state of acute nervousness.  What would be the effect of such a toilet?  Would she look like a lady—­or like—­what she had suggested that morning?  She was so changeable, had such a wide range of variability that he dared not hope.  When she finally appeared, he was ready to fall down and worship.  He was about to take her where his world would see her, where every inch of her would be subjected to the cruelest, most hostile criticism.  One glance at her, and he knew a triumph awaited him.  No man and no woman would wonder that he had lost his head over such beauty as hers.  Hat and dress seemed just what had been needed to bring out the full glory of her charms.

“You are incredibly beautiful,” he said in an awed tone.  “I am proud of you.”