y--was determined
to marry, if possible. The instinct, common to
every manly man, to hold in peculiar respect the
woman whom he wishes to make his wife, led
Thorne to feel that, until he should be free from
the fetter that bound him, he should abstain from
paying Pocahontas marked attention; to feel that
she would have cause of complaint against him if
he did not abstain.

So he argued the case in cold blood; but now
his blood was boiling and he dubbed himself fool
in language concise and forcible. See what had
come of his self-denial? Another man had done
what he had left undone; another hand had laid
in hers the fragrant offering it should have been
his to bestow. Fool that he had been, to
stand aside and let another man seize the opportunity!

Jasmin, too! Pah! The heavy perfume made
him ill. He was conscious of a fierce longing to
snatch the blossoms from her hand and crush
them down into the heart of the fire and hold
them there--the pale, sickly things. _He_ would
have given her roses, passionate, glorious roses,
deep-hearted and crimson with the wine of love.

Pocahontas had small time for wondering over
her cavalier's sudden moroseness, for no sooner
had she entered the parlors than old friends
crowded forward to speak to her and claim a
dance; the girl was popular among the young
people of the vicinity. She was a wonderful
success that night. Not even Norma, for all her rich
tropical beauty, was more admired.

"Our little squaw is smashing things, Berke,"
remarked Roy Garnett, later in the evening, as he
joined his brother-in-law in the recess by the
fireplace. "The men all swear she's the handsomest
woman in the room--and on my soul I believe
they're right."

"She does look well," responded Mason with
all a brother's calm moderation. "Her dress
is in good taste, and she moves gracefully. But
she isn't the handsomest woman in the room by
long odds. Look at Norma Smith."

"I have looked at her," retorted Roy shortly,
"and so I suppose have the other men. There's
no more comparison between her and Princess
than there is between a gorgeous, striped tulip, and
a white tea rose." (For some inscrutable reason
Roy had never been able to endure Norma, and
even grudged acknowledgment of her undeniable
beauty). "Look at that fellow Thorne, now!"
he added, with the pleased alacrity of one producing
an unexpected trump, "I should say that _he_
shared my opinion. He hasn't danced volu