alyst of sensations. I don't know if
he has any gods--he does not believe in them if he has; he believes in no
one, and nothing, but perhaps himself. He is violently in love with you
for the moment, and he wants to marry you, because he cannot obtain you on
any other terms."

"You are flattering," I said, rather hurt.

"I am truthful. You will probably have a delightful time with him, and
keep him devoted to you for years, because you are not in love with him;
and he will take good care you do not look at any one else. I can imagine
if one were in love with Christopher he would break one's heart, as he has
broken poor Alicia Verney's."

"Oh, but how silly! People don't have broken hearts now; you are talking
like out of a book, dear Lady Ver."

"There are a few cases of broken hearts, but they are not for book
reasons--of death and tragedy, etc.--they are because we cannot have what
we want, or keep what we have--" and she sighed.

We did not speak for a few minutes, then she said, quite gayly:

"You have made my head better; your touch is extraordinary; in spite of
all, I like you, snake-girl. You are not found on every gooseberry-bush."

We kissed lightly, and I left her and went to my room.

Yes, the best thing I can do is to marry Christopher. I care for him so
little that the lady in Paris won't matter to me, even if she is like Sir
Charles's "Poulet a la Victoria aux Truffes." He is such a gentleman, he
will at least be kind to me and refined and considerate--and the
Carruthers emeralds are divine, and just my stones. I shall have them
reset by Cartier. The lace, too, will suit me, and the sables, and I shall
have the suite that Mrs. Carruthers used at Branches done up with pale,
pale green, and burn all the early Victorians! And no doubt existence
will be full of triumphs and pleasure.

But oh--I wish--I wish it were possible to obtain--"both!"

300 PARK STREET,

_Friday night._

Luncheon passed off very well. Sir Charles returned from the City improved
in temper, and, as Lady Ver had predicted, presented her with a Cartier
jewel. It was a brooch, not a ring, but she was delighted, and purred to
him.

He was a little late, and we were seated, a party of eight, when he came
in. They all chaffed him about Paris, and he took it quite
good-humoredly--he even seemed pleased. He has n