iress must encounter many
wonderful adventures in love. Adelle was initiated in the great theme,
and for the first time began to take an interest in men. Perhaps Mr.
Ashly Crane's crude love-making had broken down certain inhibitions in
the girl's passive nature, had overcome an instinctive repugnance to sex
encounters. The path of the next wooer would doubtless be easier. But
that lucky man did not put in an appearance. Miss Comstock jealously
guarded the approaches to her treasure with greater discretion than ever
before. She made no effort to prepare for her an alliance with an
impecunious scion of the minor Continental nobility such as she arranged
later for Sadie Paul. She said that she could think of no one good
enough for her dear Adelle, and anyway the girl was altogether too young
to think of marrying--another year would be ample time. So Adelle was
confined to the younger brothers and friends of her companions, who
turned up in Paris at different times, and upon these she tried timidly
her powers of charm with no great success. Apparently she was content to
remain without "beaux." Luxury had made her indolent, and her days were
full of petty occupations that distract the spirit. Yet at times she
felt a vague emptiness in her life which she soon found means of filling
in an unsuspected manner.

Adelle's interest in the art of jewelry had not ceased, but she was away
from Paris this second year so much that her work in Miss Baxter's
studio had been sadly interrupted. After her return from the Nile in
March, however, she developed anew her passion for making pins and
chains and rings, and spent long afternoons in the studio on the Rue de
l'Universite. Miss Comstock thought nothing of these absences; indeed,
was relieved to have Adelle so harmlessly and elegantly employed. It is
true that Adelle was working in the studio, but she was working under a
new tutelage. A fellow-townsman of Miss Baxter's had turned up in Paris
that autumn and frequented her studio as the only place where he could
be sure of a welcome, warmth, and an occasional cup of tea. This young
Californian, Archie Davis by name, had found his way to Paris as the
traditional home of the arts, and expected to make himself famous as a
painter. A graduate of the State University, he had been engaged by his
father in vine culture on the sunny slopes of Santa Rosa, but the life
of a California wine-grower had not appealed to him. From the slopes of
Santa