oved?"

"Many times." Her eyes dreamed. "Many times have I loved and unloved and
forgotten. For that very reason I quote to you:

"'Ah, happy he who gains not
The love some seem to gain.'

"Oh, what an opportunity my scorned profession gives me for knowing the
human heart. This woman who comes to me cries: 'If I had only married I
should have known the joy of companionship, of motherhood, and children
growing up around me,' And this one wails: 'I have made a mistake. If I
had not married and been condemned to a humdrum life what a noise I might
have made in the world with my gifts and my beauty,' There is only one
good, you know, the good we haven't got. They want a life of romance, of
charm, and they never seem to think that it must be within them." She
struck the table lightly. "Life is only a reflection of one's self."

"And have you found your choice satisfactory?" he asked curiously.

She gave her quick little shrug. "I have lived after my own nature. It
would have been impossible for me to do otherwise. Ah, life, life! There
has never been a moment that good or bad, I have not loved it! It is a
plant--life, a beautiful plant; and most people are in haste to cull its
loveliest blossoms and strip it bare of leaves, in the effort to get all
it can give, and finally, they even drag up the roots to see if they can
not extract something more; but to enjoy that plant, Mr. Hayden"--she
spoke with passionate emphasis--"you must love and tend it. 'To get the
most out of life' is a horrible phrase. Life offers nothing to those who
seek her thus; but to all who ask little of her, who stand ready and glad
to give, she repays an hundredfold."

"What a preacher you are," he laughed.

Before Ydo could answer, the maid entered with a card and handed it to
her. The Mariposa sat silent for a moment or two, gazing intently at the
bit of pasteboard, a peculiar smile on her lips.

"Show Mrs. Ames in here," she said at last, with sudden decision.

"Mrs. Ames!" Hayden sat in dumb amazement "Mrs. Ames!" What on earth
Could that old woman want with the Mariposa?

But before he could voice his astonishment, the visitor appeared. She was
in her customary rusty, fringed black, jingling with chains, mummified in
expression, and with the usual large showing of dusty diamonds. She
surveyed Hayden through her lorgnon with both surprise and disapproval,
and then acknowledging his bow with a curt nod, turned to Ydo.

But a chang