prince to come near her
on learning that there was another whom he should have married instead of
Millionaire Merriam's daughter.

When she was a little girl in Boston (where Mrs. Merriam had insisted upon
living), Angela used to sit on her father's knee; and as he curled her
yellow hair over his fingers he wove romances of the Golden West,
reluctantly deserted for his wife's sake; and though many illusions had
broken like bright bubbles, this ideal still glittered before Angela's
eyes. She had been promised by her father that she should visit California
with him, when "Mother brought her back from Europe"; but he had died, and
mother had not brought her back; so now she was going to make the
pilgrimage alone. Not only did she intend to see the places her father had
described, but when she had seen all and could choose, she meant to buy
land and make a home for herself, her first real home.

Wherever she decided to live, the house must be like the one where her
father had been born--long and low built of adobe; there must be a patio,
with a fountain in the middle; and the rooms must be kept cool by the roof
of a veranda, shading the windows like a great overhanging eyelid. Lovely
flowers she would have, of course, but the garden must be as unlike an
Italian garden as possible. Italy was beautiful, but she did not wish to
be reminded of that country, or any other in Europe where she had wandered
in search of forgetfulness.

She had little fear that ghosts of the past would come to haunt her in her
new home, for though the Prince di Sereno had once cared for her in his
way, she had struck at his pride and made him hate her in the end. At last
he had been glad to let her go out of his life, for she had made
arrangements by which he kept more than half her money. There was no
danger that he would try to snatch her back again; and as for European
friends and acquaintances, it was unlikely that such worldly persons would
care to come to the place she meant to select. It would be far from the
paths of tourists.

The eight-day voyage passed pleasantly for Angela. She had spoken to no
one except stewards and stewardesses for, taking her meals on deck, she
had not come into contact with other passengers. The mourning she wore for
her mother, who had died four months before in London, seemed to set her
apart from others, though had it not been for the cause of her mourning,
probably she would not now be on her way to America.