hen he
himself had so sorely missed the way! There was only one thing to do, he
knew that--both for Opal's sake and for his own--and that was to go far
away, and never see the face again that had bewitched him so.

Perhaps, if he did this, he might forget the experience that was, after
all, only an episode in a man's life and--other men forget! He might
learn to be calmly happy and contented with his Princess. It was only
natural for a young man to make love to a pretty girl, he thought, and
why should he be any exception? He had taken the good the gods provided,
as any live man would--now he could go his way, as other men did,
and--forget! Why not? And yet the mere thought of it cast such a gloom
over his spirits that he knew in his heart his philosophic attempt to
deceive himself was futile and vain. He might run away, of
course--though it was hardly like him to do that--but he would scarcely
be able to forget.

And then Verdayne joined him with an open note in his hand--a formal
invitation from Gilbert Ledoux for them to dine with him in his Fifth
Avenue house on the following evening. He wished his family to meet the
friends who had so pleasantly attracted himself and his daughter on
shipboard.

Was it strange how speedily the Boy's resolutions vanished? Run away!
Not he!

"Accept the invitation, Father Paul, by all means!"

* * * * *

It was a cordial party in which Paul Verdayne and his young companion
found themselves on the following evening--a simple family gathering,
graciously presided over by Opal's stepmother.

Gilbert Ledoux's wife was one of those fashion-plate women who strike
one as too artificial to be considered as more than half human. You
wonder if they have also a false set of emotions to replace those they
wore out in their youth--_c'est a dire_ if they ever had any! Paul
smiled at the thought that Mr. Ledoux need have no anxiety over the
virtue of his second wife--whatever merry dance the first might have led
him!

Opal was not present when the gentlemen were announced, and the bevy of
aunts and uncles and cousins were expressing much impatience for her
presence--which Paul Zalenska echoed fervently in his heart. It was
truly pleasant--this warm blood-interest of kinship. He liked the
American clannishness, and he sighed to think of the utter lack of
family affection in his own life.

The drawing-room, where they were received, was furnished in good tast