t at all disturbed and her hand rested lightly on his
arm once more.

"You are a foolish boy," she said. "When you pay compliments, do not pay
them in such blunt fashion."

"I could not help it; I had too good an excuse."

She smiled slightly.

"Southern men are clever at flattery," she said, "and the Northern men,
they say, are not; perhaps on that account those of the North are more
sincere."

"But we of the South often mean what we say, nevertheless."

Had Prescott been watching her face, he might have seen a slight change
of expression, a momentary look of alarm in the green depths of the
eyes--some one else was passing--but in another instant her face was as
calm, as angelic as ever.

She spoke of Helen Harley and her brave struggle, the evident devotion
of General Wood, and the mixed comment with which it was received.

"Will he win her?" asked Prescott.

"I do not know; but somebody should rescue her from that selfish old
father of hers. He claims to be the perfect type of the true Southern
gentleman--he will tell you so if you ask him--but if he is, I prefer
that the rest of the world should judge the South by a false type."

"But General Wood is not without rivals," said Prescott. "I have often
thought that he had one of the most formidable kind in the Secretary,
Mr. Sefton."

He awaited her answer with eagerness. She was a woman of penetrating
mind and what she said would be worth considering. Regarding him again
with that covert glance, she saw anxiety trembling on his lips and she
replied deliberately:

"The Secretary himself is another proof why a woman of beauty should not
concentrate all her devotion on one man. You have seen him to-night and
his assiduous attention to another woman. Captain Prescott, all men are
fickle--with a few exceptions, perhaps."

She gave him her most stimulating glance, a look tipped with flame,
which said even to a dull intelligence--and Prescott's was not--that he
was one of the few, the rare exceptions. As her talk became more
insinuating her hand touched his arm and rested there ten seconds where
it had rested but five before. Again he felt her breath lightly on his
cheek and he noticed how finely arched and seductive was the curve of
her long yellow lashes. He had felt embarrassed and ashamed when Lucia
Catherwood saw him there in an attitude of devotion to Mrs. Markham, but
that sensation was giving way to stubbornness and anger. If Lucia should
turn to som