a dozen things, but without feeling that he had
matched, even in his imagination, their peculiar and beautiful color.

It was the first day out; and he liked to think that he could
occasionally look at this face for a week to come, and when he got to
shore he would paint her. He had a studio in the suburbs, to which he
often went and to which his mother and sisters had never been invited.
It was often a delight to him to think of its freedom and seclusion.

He was acutely jarred upon, as he stood alone at the deck rail, by the
approach of a man who had a club acquaintance with him at home, which he
had shown a disposition to magnify since coming aboard the steamer. He
was not a man for whose talk Noel cared at any time, but he felt a
distinct rebellion against it just now. This feeling was swiftly put to
flight, however, by the fact that on his way to him the new-comer passed
and bowed to the beautiful girl, receiving in return a bow and a smile.
The bow was gracious, the smile charming, lighting for an instant the
gravity of her calm face, and showing perfect teeth.

"Ah, Miller! that you? How're you coming on?" said Noel, with a sudden
access of cordiality, making a place for the new-comer at his side.

"All right, thanks, considering it's the first day out. That's generally
the biggest bore, because you know there are six or seven more just like
it to follow. Pretty girl that, ain't it?"

"Who is she?" asked Noel, refusing to concur in the designation.

"Mrs. Dallas, according to her new name."

"And that is her husband?"

"That is her husband. He's not a bad-looking fellow, either; but you
don't look as if you approved him."

"I?" said Noel. "Why shouldn't I? He seems a good-looking fellow enough.
Do you know her?"

"Yes, I know her. Everybody knew her at Baden. It was not very hard to
do."

"What do you mean?" said Noel, looking at him suddenly very straight and
hard.

"Oh, I simply mean that her father, who seems a rather bad type of
adventurer, gave free access to her acquaintance to any man who might
turn out to be marriageable. He introduced me to her as soon as he saw I
had been attracted by her looks, and I used to talk to her a good deal.
Her mother, it seems, died in her childhood; and she was put to school
at a convent, where she remained until she was eighteen. Her father then
brought her home, and began assiduously his efforts to marry her off. It
was plain that she hampered him a good dea