luck!" gloomily remarked Miss Genie. "He was a regular
dandy, and I liked him--but," she said, with a thirsty peck at a glass
of champagne, as they waited for the breakfast, "Phenie will then have
to give that long-legged Italian fellow the tip. The Marquis of Santa
Marina! He's not much, but better than nothing at all. We'll have a
jolly day!"

Major Hawke was mystified at the daring personal independence of the
sprightly young heiress. She was a social revelation to him, and the
sunny afternoon was not altogether thrown away, for they carelessly
rambled over the proud old town together, doing all the sights. They
visited the stately National Monument, the Jardin Anglais, the Hotel
de Ville, the Arsenal, the Muse'e Foy, the Botanic Gardens, and the
Athende. He gazed upon the fresh face of the rebellious young American
social mutineer with an increasing wonder as they wandered alone on the
Promenade des Bastions, and was simply astounded when he vainly tried
to take advantage of a shady corner in the Musee Ariana to steal a kiss
from the wayward girl's rosy lips. Miss Genie "formed herself into a
hollow square" and calmly, but energetically, repulsed him.

"See here! Major Hawke!" she coolly said, "get off the perch! I don't
care for any soft sawder! I'm a pretty good fellow in my way, but I know
how to take care of myself!"

In fact, Major Alan Hawke at last recognized the existence of a species
of womanhood which he had never before met. Miss Genie was frankly
unconventional, and yet she was both hard-headed and hardhearted. When
he carefully dressed himself for the intellectual feast of Mademoiselle
Delande's "refined collation," he dimly became aware that the role
of unpaid bear leader to the Chicago girl simply amounted to being an
unsalaried valet de place! "As for compromising that devil of a girl,"
he growled, "she could have given the snake in the Garden of Eden long
odds and beaten him hollow, in subtlety." This view of the impeccability
of the Chicago epidermis was confirmed later when Hawke returned
from the "Institute" at the decorous hour of ten that evening. He was
thoroughly happy, for the sly Francois was ready to meet him at the
door, whispering:

"I will be at your rooms at ten, and bring you the photographs. I have a
couple of hours of freedom then."

Mademoiselle Euphrosyne's pale, anemic nature had bloomed out under the
graceful attentions of the gallant officer, and gradually she expanded,