he would make Myra pay
in full for her coquetry.

The house party broke up at length and the guests dispersed, Myra and
her aunt returning to London for the "Little Season" and to equip
themselves for the winter cruise in Tony's yacht, which was being
refitted at Southampton.

Don Carlos had begged to be allowed to call, and both Lady Fermanagh
and Myra had said graciously that they would be delighted to see him at
any time.

"My thanks to you for having succeeded in keeping your promise," said
Myra, as they parted. "Accept my congratulations."

"One reaches Heaven by way of Purgatory," responded Don Carlos
cryptically. "I am looking forward eagerly to our next meeting, when I
shall be free to express myself."

Expectant, and a trifle apprehensive, Myra awaited events. Nothing
happened. A week elapsed without her seeing, or hearing from, Don
Carlos, and when she made inquiries about him she learned from Tony
that he had returned to Spain.

"Said he had some business matters to attend to, and wanted to arrange
for our entertainment at his place out there," explained Tony. "He
promised to be back in time to join the yacht at Southampton."

Myra was piqued. It hurt her pride to think she had not made a
conquest after all, and had merely been flattering herself in imagining
she had made Don Carlos fall in love with her.

"What a fool I feel!" soliloquised Myra. "I was confident he was in
desperate earnest and was crazy about me, and I have been wondering how
to resist and repel him. He shows how little he cares by going off to
Spain without even calling to say good-bye, and with never a farewell
note. Oh, what an exasperating creature!"

Another ten days passed uneventfully, and Myra found herself oddly
discontented with life and things in general. It was a dismal November
afternoon, she had no engagements, and was feeling utterly bored as she
took tea alone in the drawing room of her aunt's house in Mayfair,
when, to her astonishment, Don Carlos de Ruiz was announced. Her heart
gave a convulsive leap at the mere mention of his name, and it was
throbbing faster than its wont as she rose to greet him, although she
assumed an attitude of cool indifference.

"Sure, and it's seriously annoyed with you, I am, Don Carlos, and you
needn't expect me to say I'm glad to see you," she said in her musical
Irish voice as she gave him her hand. "How very rude of you to
disappear without even a word of farewell.