Opals agleam in the dusk of her hair Flash their hearts of fire and colours rare As she dances gaily by

" She hesitated a moment, standing before him, the hood of her capote, with its rich purple, dropping from the fluttering yellow hair that the moonlight deepened into gold, and the fire-opal clasp rising and falling with her breath, like an imprisoned flame.

It was barely eight o'clock and there was a wonderful opal skya June twilight sky, of which Paris makes a specialtyall grey and rose and mauve and faint orange.