ducing men to make fools of themselves?"

"Oh, Aunt, don't be absurd!" interposed Myra. "Are you suggesting that
Don Carlos may murder me? Do you anticipate his plunging a stiletto or
some sort of Spanish dagger into my heart, or committing suicide on our
nice clean doorstep, because I do not reciprocate his passion?"

She trilled out a laugh and her aunt had, perforce, to smile.

"One never knows," she said again. "My advice to you is not to take
any further risks, and not to attempt to gloat over Don Carlos. And I
think you should fix the date for your marriage to Tony Standish and
make a good resolution to break no more hearts."

"And join a Dorcas society, and wear flannel next the skin, and woollen
stockings and flat-heeled shoes!" Myra added frivolously. "Thank you
_so_ much, Aunt Clarissa!"

CHAPTER IX

Sure of her own powers, but uncertain of her own heart, Myra could not
make up her mind in advance what attitude to adopt towards Don Carlos
at their next meeting, and wondered what his attitude would be towards
her. Would he profess to be heart-broken, or continue to make
passionate love to her at every opportunity?

She was left wondering, for Don Carlos left London that very day, after
explaining to Tony that he had been called to Paris on important
business.

"Said he might be away for a week or two, but promised he would make a
point of getting back in time to join our yachting party," Tony
informed Myra. "Just as well, perhaps, what? Give him time to get
over having fallen in love with you, darling. Asked me to give you his
humble and dutiful regards--I believe that was his expression--and to
assure you he never broke a promise. I suppose he meant his promise to
be back in time to join us at Southhampton."

"I suppose so," Myra equivocated. "I don't believe he is in love with
me, Tony."

"I don't see how anyone could help being in love with you, darling,"
responded Tony gallantly. "My idea is that poor old Carlos is hard
hit, and has probably gone to Paris to pull himself together, so to
speak, and to avoid meeting you for a bit."

"Paris is so consoling!" commented Myra satirically. "Just the sort of
quiet, soothing place where a heart-broken lover can find solace! I
shall waste no sympathy on Don Carlos."

She was piqued and puzzled, and a little exasperated by the thought
that Don Carlos was playing a joke on her.

"He probably thinks I am deeply in love with him, and f