r her, perhaps she would
hesitate. But she would not fight the battle alone as long as he was
able to champion her cause. He would see that her rights were fully
protected.

Taking up her palette and brushes Paula went on with her painting.
Quietly she said:

"Very well, Mr. Ricaby. You know best. We will sail on Saturday."

"That's a sensible girl! I came to take you to luncheon. It's just
twelve o'clock. Can you come?"

She pointed at the canvas.

"I have still a little to finish. Then I'm done for the day. I can't
work in the afternoon--the light is not good. Couldn't you make it half
an hour later?"

"Certainly. That will give me time to go to the American Express office.
I must see them about shipping your baggage. I'll come back for you in
half an hour."

He lifted his hat and went away.

CHAPTER IV.

The sound of the lawyer's retreating footsteps died away in the
distance. Once more a heavy stillness settled down over the gallery.
Left to herself, the young girl resumed working with increased vigor. As
her brushes moved rapidly, touching places here and there, now seeking
fresh color on the palette, now making some spot on the rapidly
progressing canvas glow with rich tints, her movements gradually grew
more or less mechanical. While her hand kept busy, her thoughts were
elsewhere.

She was sorry to leave Paris. Much that she held dear, her friends, the
bohemian student life which she loved, she must now give up forever. A
new world, new acquaintances claimed her. Yes, Mr. Ricaby was right. It
was her duty to go back and do good with the fortune which fate had sent
her. She would seek happiness by making others happy. She would use the
money left by her father to alleviate the sufferings of the unfortunate.
She would build model tenements, endow hospitals and homes for orphaned
and crippled children. She would make that her life work. Her face
flushed with pleasure as she planned out all that she could do. Mr.
Ricaby should be her legal adviser. He would tell her how to invest her
fortune to best advantage, so she might do all the good possible. It
would reconcile her to leaving Paris if she could devote her life to
trying to solve the social problem.

Her thoughts reverted to her childhood days in America. She had a dim
recollection of living in a great gloomy house in the outskirts of an
ugly, smoky city. At night when she went to bed she could see in the
distance tall chimneys belching