oment, and she was doing her best to keep
Nick's thoughts from his "boss's widow." He and "Mrs. May" went about San
Francisco together like two children on a holiday.

The place was a surprise to Angela. Her father's stories had pictured for
her a strange, wild city, of many wooden houses, a tangle of steep streets
running up hill and down dale, a few great mansions, a thousand or more
acres of park in the making. But the San Francisco which he had known as a
boy had greatly changed, even before the fire. Angela was aware of this,
though she had not been able to realize the vastness of the change; and
though she knew that the city was reborn since the epic tragedy which laid
it low, she had expected to find it in a confused turmoil of growing. The
work done in six or seven years by men who loved the City of the Golden
Gate--men who gave blood and fortune for her, as men will for an adored
woman--was almost incredible. "Rome was not built in a day" she had often
heard; but this great town of many hills, so like a Rome of a new world,
seemed to have risen from its ashes by magic.

The place began to take on in her eyes a curious, startling individuality.
She began to think of the city not as a town, but as a person. A woman,
young, lovely, and beloved, who had gone gaily to bed one night to dream
of her lovers, her jewels, and her triumphs. While she lay smiling in her
beauty sleep, this woman had been rudely aroused by a cry of fire and
shouts that warned her to fly. Dazed, she dressed in wildest haste,
putting on all the gorgeous jewels she could find, for fear of losing them
forever, and wrapping herself in exquisite laces. But in her hurry, she
had been obliged to fling on some very queer garments rather than not be
clothed at all; and, losing her head, had contrived to save a few
worthless things. All this the woman had done, laughing through her fear
of death, because nothing could conquer her brave spirit and because she
knew that, scared and destitute, near to death, she would be rescued at
last, loved better than ever for her sufferings, and by and by would be
more regal than before.

Now, here was this vital creature, rewarded for her faith by the worship
and the prowess of her lovers. What matter if she still wore some of the
odd things she had picked up in a hurry? Gowns better than she had ever
boasted were being fashioned for her; and the contrast between a tiara
showing under a sunbonnet, a scarf of rose-p