ng his meaning unexpressed. But his eyes had something
wistful in their direct appeal, which perhaps the older man understood,
for his expression was unusually kind as he asked with apparent
irrelevancy, "Have you heard from Nina?"

Derby flushed even under his tan, but he answered frankly: "Yes, I have
had letters regularly--bully ones--full of Italy and the high nobility.
Isn't it just like her to remember her friends at home!" Then he added
ardently, "There was never any one like Nina--never! Of course, every
man in Italy is in love with her by now."

"Humph!" was Mr. Randolph's answer, as his hand went up through his hair
until it stood straight on end. "Had she the disposition of Xantippe and
the ugliness of Medusa she would be called a goddess divine by the
titled sellers. But what can I do? I can't keep her locked up at
home--for the matter of that, she is run after about as badly over
here----" and he added gently in an altered tone, "My poor little girl!
Sometimes I think how much better off she would have been as the
daughter of a man without money. At present, of course, she is beset
with every possible danger. I don't think Nina will lose her heart
easily, mind you, but there is an underlying excitement in her letters
that gives me some uneasiness as to the state of her emotions. I do not
relish the possibility of her marrying one of those ingratiating,
cold-hearted, and seemingly ardent noblemen." Then, as though to qualify
his general statement, he continued, "My sister-in-law married a decent
sort of a man, and I imagine they are happy--but she'd have done much
better if she had married your uncle. He never cared for any one else,
and I hoped it would be a match. But Alessandro Sansevero came along and
swept her off her feet. She was a great beauty, and I believe he married
her for love--which is more than I can hope in Nina's case."

Into Derby's face there came a look like that of the small boy who gazes
hungrily into a bakery shop window as he protested. "No one could know
Nina well and not love her. She is the squarest, the truest, just as she
is the most beautiful, girl in the world."

"No,"--Mr. Randolph spoke quite slowly, for him--"Nina is not
beautiful--sweet, and unspoiled, and lovable, yes; but she is not a
beauty."

Derby's face kindled with indignation, and he retorted unguardedly,
"I grant you she hasn't one of those pleased-with-itself,
don't-disturb-the-placidity-of-my-peerless-perfec