nd every once in so often there was a futile treasure
hunt! He grew cold. If this old man but knew!

"Do you know butterflies, Mr. Fitzgerald?"

"Social?"

The admiral laughed. "No. The law doesn't permit you to stick pins in
that kind. No; I mean that kind," indicating the cases.

Both young men admitted that this field had been left unexplored by
either of them.

It was during a lull, when the talk had fallen to the desultory, that
the hall door opened, and Laura came in. Her cheeks glowed like the
sunny side of a Persian peach; her eyes sparkled; between her moist red
lips there was a flash of firm, white teeth; the seal-brown hair
glinted a Venetian red--for at that moment she stood in the path of the
sunshine which poured in at the window--and blown tendrils in
picturesque disorder escaped from under her hat.

The three men rose hastily; the father with pride, Fitzgerald with
gladness, and Breitmann with doubt and wonder and fear.

CHAPTER VIII

SOME BIRDS IN A CHIMNEY

It might be truthfully said that the tableau lasted as long as she
willed it to last. Perhaps she read in the three masculine faces
turned toward her a triangular admiration, since it emanated from three
given points, and took from it a modest pinch for her vanity. Vain she
never was; still, she was not without a share of vanity, that vanity of
the artless, needing no sacrifices, which is gratified and appeased by
a smile. It pleased her to know that she was lovely; and it doubled
her pleasure to realize that her loveliness pleased others. She
demanded no hearts; she craved no jewels, no flattery. She warmed when
eyes told her she was beautiful; but she chilled whenever the lips took
up the speech, and voiced it. She was one of those happy beings in
either sex who can amuse themselves, who can hold pleasant communion
with the inner self, who can find romance in old houses, and yet love
books, who prefer sunrises and sunsets at first hand, still loving a
good painting.

Perhaps this trend of character was the result of her inherited love of
the open. With almost unlimited funds under her own hand, she lived
simply. She was never happy in smart society, though it was always
making demands upon her. When abroad, she was generally prowling
through queer little shops instead of mingling with the dress parades
on the grand-hotel terraces. There was no great battle-field in Europe
she had not trod upon. She knew them so