metaphysics, perhaps," he answered. "It means that if we first
quarrel we shall eventually become sympathetic friends."

"Polemical enemies, I should say," Marion replied sharply.

"Why?"

"Because I am not willing to admit I am of so changeable a nature," she
replied.

"A mediocre nature will never change; an uncommon one invariably does,"
he said confidently.

"Another slur."

"A compliment, I should say, as your opinion of me will change."

"On what do you base your presumption?" she said with assumed
indignation.

He was silent. She glanced about the room. It was nearly dark and the
fire was flickering on the hearth. Unconsciously she looked up as
though seeking an answer to her question. Again two grey eyes looked
softly through the twilight into her own. "Because I feel certain of
it," he said quietly and emphatically, as though in answer to her
questioning glance.

"Then you shall acknowledge yourself mistaken," she slowly replied.
"I'll give you a fair chance. Will you dine with us on Friday?"

"A day of ill luck, but I accept," he replied as he rose to go. "Shall
it be a truce in the interim?" he added, offering his hand.

"If you like," she replied.

"Good-by," he said, taking her hand. "It shall be a fair game and I will
play to win."

"But you will lose," she answered.

Her eyes followed him as he left the room. "An interesting nature to
study," she thought, "but I wish he would not look at me in that way."

CHAPTER VI.

SPANISH CASTLES.

Mrs. Sanderson had arranged designedly the dinner to which she had
invited Duncan. He had been much in her thoughts in the interim, and,
being anxious to see what method he would adopt to overcome her assumed
enmity, she looked forward to their next meeting with curiosity. She was
a strong impressionist, and when she had first heard him described by
her New York friend, Sibyl Wright, she had mentally resolved that he was
a person she would one day meet and like. She had also formed a picture
of him in her mind, and, curiously enough, the likeness had been exact.
She now felt that her impression had been a presentiment, and this
thought appealed to her peculiarly constituted nature. She wanted to
know Duncan better and analyze his character, so she arranged her table
to further this desire, placing him at her right, and, as Florence
Moreland did not like him, she was given the next seat; next to
Florence she put Harold Wainwright, feeling sure