rth for this,
To waste his whole heart in one kiss
Upon her perfect lips?'

Let them plead for me the pardon I know no better way to sue for--or
explain!"

The girl was silent. That little flutter in her heart was pleading for
him, but her head was still rebellious, and she knew not which would
triumph. She put one white finger on her lip, and wondered what to say
to him. She would not look into his eyes--they bothered her quite beyond
all reason--so she looked at the deck instead, as though hoping to find
some rule of conduct there.

"I am sorry, Opal," went on the pleading tones, "that is, sorry that it
offended you. I can't be sorry that I did it--yet!"

After a moment of serious reflection, she looked up at him sternly.

"It was a very rude thing to do, Paul! No one ever--"

"Don't you suppose I know that, Opal? Did you think that I thought--"

"How was I to know what you thought, Paul? You didn't know me!"

"Oh, but I do. Better than you know yourself!"

She looked up at him quickly, a startled expression in her soft,
lustrous eyes.

"I--almost--believe you do--Paul."

"Opal!" He paused. She was tempting him again. Didn't she know it?

"Opal, can't--won't you believe in me? Don't you feel that you know
me?"

"I'm not sure that I do--even yet--after--that! Oh, Paul, are you sure
that you know yourself?"

"No, not sure, but I'm beginning to!"

She made no reply. After a moment, he said softly, "You haven't said
that you forgive me, yet, Opal! I know there is no plausible excuse for
me, but--listen! I couldn't help it--I truly couldn't! You simply must
forgive me!"

"Couldn't help it?"--Oh, the scorn of her reply. "If there had been any
man in you at all, you could have helped it!"

"No, Opal, you don't understand! It is because I _am_ a man that I
couldn't help it. It doesn't strike you that way now, I know, but--some
day you will see it!"

And suddenly she did see it. And she reached out her hand to him, and
whispered, "Then let's forget all about it. I am willing to--if you
will!"

Forget? He would not promise that. He did not wish to forget! And she
looked so pretty and provoking as she said it, that he wanted to--! But
he only took her hand, and looked his gratitude into her eyes.

The Count de Roannes came unexpectedly and unobserved upon the climax of
the little scene, and read into it more significance than it really had.
It was not strange, perhaps, that to him this meetin