e, would go blind and deaf and lapse into the merest frenzy of
insanity. She would hasten to believe the worst and disbelieve the best.
Under spell of jealousy, the San Reve would accept nothing that told in
her own favor; and just now, despite an outward serenity--for, though
sullen, she was serene--the San Reve was afire with jealousy like a
torch.

The San Reve listened to Storri and said nothing; she could see how
matters stood. Storri still dominated the Harleys; he went there; he saw
Miss Harley; his suit was advancing; that was what had sent him to her,
the San Reve, with a lie on his lips about having quit his calls at the
Harleys'; he was seeking to blind her to what was passing. But she, the
San Reve, would be cunning; she would fathom the traitor Storri. Even
then she could foretell the end. In a week, or mayhap a month, the news
would reach her of the wedding of Storri and Miss Harley. What else
could come? Storri was a Count. Were not Americans mad after Counts? And
such a nobleman! Wealthy, handsome, brilliant, bold--who could refuse
his love? Not the Harleys--not Miss Harley! No, the transparent sureness
of it set sneeringly a-curl the San Reve's mouth. Soon or late, Storri
would lead Miss Harley to the altar. The bells would ring, the organ
swell, the people gape and comment. And then Storri and his bride would
ride away; while she, the San Reve--she, the disgraced--she, the
daughter of a man who tamed lions--she would be left alone with her
despised heart!

All this wild driftwood of conjecture came riding down on the swift,
tumbling currents of the San Reve's thoughts, and to her these mad
conclusions were as prophecy. What should she do--she and her poor love?
She must not lose her idol--her Storri! What should she do? She had
written this Mr. Storms of the French shares and nothing had come of
that! Should she disclose herself to Miss Harley? Of what avail? What
woman was ever withheld from wedding a man by the word of that man's
mistress? The San Reve could have scorned herself for a fool! She was
handless to interfere; the San Reve clenched her white, strong teeth to
find herself so much at bay.

Stop; there was one chance of defeating fate--a sure chance; the thought
had come before! And now the San Reve looked strangely at Storri; her
teeth showed pearl against the coral of her parted lips while her
nostrils dilated like the nostrils of an animal.

The little world you have been considering t