row, and many tears," repeated the American girl,
musingly, "and maybe--sin!" Then she went on, firmly, "Very well,
Alice, give me the suffering and sorrow, and many tears--and the sin,
too, if it must be, for we are all sinners of greater or less
degree--but at any rate, give me life! My life may still be far off in
the future, but when the time comes, I shall certainly know, and--I
shall _live_!"

"You are a peculiar girl, Opal, and--we don't say those things in
England."

"No, you don't say those things, you cold English women! You do not even
_feel_ them! As for sin, Alice, to my mind there can be no worse sin
under heaven than you commit when you give yourself to a man whom you do
not love better than you could possibly love any other. Oh, it is a
sin--it _must_ be--to sell yourself like that! It's no wonder, I think,
that your husbands are so often driven to 'the women we do not talk
about' for--consolation!"

"Opal! Opal! hush! What _are_ you saying? You really--but see! isn't
that Algernon crossing the terrace? He is probably looking for us."

"And like a dutiful English wife, you mustn't fail to obey, I suppose!
Lead the way, cousin mine, and I'll promise to follow you with due
dignity and decorum."

And the rustle of silken skirts heralded the departure of the ladies
away from the hedge and beyond Paul's hearing.

Then he too started at an eager, restless pace for the centre of the
crowd. He had quite forgotten the future so carefully arranged for him,
and was off in hot pursuit of--what? He did not know! He only knew that
he had heard a voice, and--he followed!

As he rejoined the guests, he looked with awakened interest into every
face, listened with eager intensity to every voice. But all in vain. It
did not occur to him that he might easily learn from his hostess the
identity of her American guest; and even if the thought had presented
itself to him, he would never have acted upon it. The experience was
his alone, and he would have been unwilling to share it with any one.

He was no longer bored as earlier in the afternoon, and he carried the
assurance of enthusiasm and interest in his every glance and motion.
People smiled at the solitary figure, and whispered that he must have
lost Verdayne. But for once in his life, the Boy was not looking for his
friend.

But neither did he find the voice!

Usually among the first to depart on such occasions as these, this time
he remained until almost all