The Spell

Armstrong nodded.

"Who spent all his life making love to another man's wife from a safe distance?"

"Yes; this is one of his love-letters."

"Then if I accept those lines you just repeated with so much feeling, I must be Laura?"

"But not another man's wife."

"I should have been if you had acted like that, Jack. Let me see how you look with a laurel wreath made of poppies."

She drew his head down and tied the flowers about his forehead. Then, pushing him away from her, she clapped her hands with delight.

"There! if the noble Petrarch had looked like that, Madonna Laura could surely never have resisted him."

"Had Madonna Laura resembled Madonna Helen, the worthy Petrarch would have had her in his arms before she had the chance," laughed Armstrong, improving his opportunity as he spoke.

"Very gallant, Jack, but very improper." Helen pursed her lips