his sunburnt face and bold blue eyes.

CHAPTER IX

Ostende had begun to bore Michael Arranstoun intolerably--he had lamed
his best pony and Miss Daisy Van der Horn was getting on his nerves. At
Ostende she, to use one of her own expressions, "was not the only pebble
on the beach." His nerves had had a good deal of exercise among that
exceedingly pleasure-loving, frolicsome crew.

Five years in the wilds had not changed him much, except to add to his
annoying charm. He was more absolutely dare-devil and sure of himself
and careless of all else than ever. Miss Daisy Van der Horn--and a
number of Clarices and Germaines and Lolos--were "just crazy" about him.
And they mattered to him not a single straw. He laughed--and kissed them
when he felt inclined, and then when all had begun to weary him he rode
away--or rather sent his polo ponies back to England and got into the
express for Paris, expecting there to find Henry Fordyce returned from
Carlsbad--only to hear that he had just started in his motor for
Brittany, and by that evening would have arrived at Havre.

Michael had nothing special to do and so followed him there at once by
train, coming upon him just as he was closing his letter to Mrs. Howard.
Then in his usual whirlwind way, which must be obeyed--he had persuaded
Henry to take him on with him, inwardly against that astute
politician's, but diffident lover's will.

"Look here, Michael," he had said, "I am going to see the lady of my
heart--you know, and you will probably be in the way!"

"Not a bit, old boy--I'll play the helpful friend and spin things along.
What's she like?"

Here Lord Fordyce gave a guarded description--but with the enthusiasm of
a man who is no longer quite young but madly in love.

"Good Lord!" whistled Michael. "She must be a daisy! And when are you
going to be married, old man? I'll lend you Arranstoun for the
honeymoon--damned good place for a honeymoon--" and then he stopped
short suddenly and laughed with a strange regretful sound in his mirth.

"Alas!" Henry sighed. "I cannot say--she is an American, you know, and
has been married to a brute of her own nation out west, whom she has to
get perfectly free of before I can have the honor to call her mine."

"Whew!"

"Yes, it is a dreadful bore having to wait. They arrange divorces
wonderfully well over there though it is only a question of a few
months, I suppose--but she would be worth waiting for for ten years----"