spoke to me I have always thought of her,--I cannot get her
out of my mind! She just HOLDS me--yes!--in one of her little white
hands! There are few women like that I think!--women who hold the souls
of others as prisoners till they choose to let them go!"

Mr. Senator Gwent was fairly nonplussed. This dark-eyed Spanish beauty
with her romantic notions was almost too much for him. Had he met her
in a novel he would have derided the author of the book for delineating
such an impossible character,--but coming in contact with her in real
life, he was at a loss what to say. Especially as he himself was quite
aware of the mysterious "hold" exercised by Morgana Royal on those whom
she chose to influence either near or at a distance. After a few
seconds of deliberation he answered--

"Yes--I should say there are very few women of that rather
uncomfortable sort of habit,--the fewer the better, in my opinion. Now
Miss Manella Soriso, remember what I say to you! Don't think about
being 'held' by anybody except by a lover and husband! See? Play the
game! With such looks as God has given you, it should be easy! Win your
'god' away from his thunderbolts before he begins havoc with them from
his miniature Olympus. If he wants the 'moon' (and possibly he
doesn't!) he won't say no to a star,--it's the next best thing.
Seriously now,"--and Gwent threw away the end of his cigar and laid a
hand gently on her arm--"be a good girl and think over what I've said
to you. Marry him if you can!--it will be the making of him!"

Manella gazed about her in the darkness, bewildered. A glittering
little mob of fire-flies danced above her head like a net of jewels.

"Oh, you talk so strangely!" she said--"You forget!--I am a poor
girl--I have no money--"

"Neither has he,"--and Gwent gave a short laugh. "But he could make a
million dollars to-morrow--if he chose. Having only himself to
consider, he DOESN'T choose! If he had YOU, he'd change his opinion.
Seaton's not the man to have a wife without keeping her in comfort. I
tell you again, you can be the making of him. You can save his life!"

She clasped her hands nervously. A little gasping sigh came from her
lips.

"Oh!--Santa Madonna!--to save his life!"

"Ah, just that!" said Gwent impressively--"Think of it! I'm not
speaking lies--that's not my way. The man is making for himself what we
in the European war called a 'danger zone,' where everybody not 'in the
know' was warned off hidden mi