est in the new life and the lives of those about her,
took the place of the apathy and indifference with which she regarded
the sated pleasures of that jaded world from which she had departed so
recently. She had come to be bored--fully resigned for Blanch's sake to
endure the _ennui_ of mere vegetation until the prodigal Jack had been
safely gathered within the fold once more. After the rude shock of first
impressions had passed and she had found time to pause and breathe, she
began to cast her eyes about her for something more real and tangible
than the memories of the world she had left behind her, but had failed
to find anything of interest until the occurrence of that unfortunate
episode with Dick.

His arms still clung to her in spite of the persistent efforts she made
to shake them off. And stranger still, no amount of scrubbing seemed to
remove the sting of those burning kisses he had impressed upon her hand.
That unpardonable piece of impudence was unprecedented. Men had made
love to her, adored her, and completely lost their heads over her; and
one man in particular, as she well knew, was scouring the ends of the
earth in an effort to obtain news of her present whereabouts. Much to
her astonishment, however, and contrary to her preconceived notions
concerning men, she found that she had suddenly lost interest in this
particular man for another.

But why? What was the cause of this newly awakened interest in Dick? Was
it because he was so different from the men she had known, or was it
that strong touch of the feminine in him which certain sensitive
masculine natures possess; that rare, distinguishing characteristic
which is so attractive to men and women alike? Did any real affinity
exist between them? How could it, considering the different conditions
and environment in which they had been reared and the width of the gulf
that divided them? What then was the cause of this attraction which in
spite of her efforts to check it, was beginning to become a source of
vexation to a woman of the world who had always prided herself on being
able to keep herself well in hand?

That it might be love, or even the dawning of love, she refused to
admit. She shuddered at the mere thought of such a catastrophe. The
thing, however, was becoming annoying. Like any thought which we hold
too long in our minds, it was bound to absorb all others in time, and
she resolved to make an end of it. She would play with him. One could
n