yes and searched his face, seeking some
solution of the mystery of her own heart's strange, rebellious
throbbing. What could it mean?

Paul took another step toward her, his face softening to tenderness.

"What is it, Opal?" he breathed.

"I was--trying--to understand you."

"I don't understand myself sometimes--certainly not to-day!"

"I thought you were a gentleman!"

(I wonder if Eve didn't say that to Adam in the garden!)

"I have been accustomed to entertain that same idea myself," he said,
"but, after all, what is it to be a gentleman? All men can be gentle
when they get what they want. That's no test of gentility. It takes
circumstances outside the normal to prove man's civilization. When his
desires meet with opposition the brute comes to the surface--that's
all."

Another rush of passion lighted his eyes and sought its reflection in
hers. Opal turned and fled.

* * * * *

In the seclusion of her stateroom Opal faced herself resolutely. A
sensation of outrage mingled with a strange sense of guilt. Her
resentment seemed to blend with something resembling a strange, fierce
joy. She tried to fight it down, but it would not be conquered.

Why was he so handsome, so brilliant, this strange foreign fellow whom
she felt intuitively to be more than he claimed to be? What was the
secret of his power that even in the face of this open insult she could
not be as angry as she knew she should have been?

She looked in the mirror apprehensively. No, there was no sign of that
terrible kiss. And yet she felt as though all the world must have seen
had they looked at her--felt that she was branded forever by the burning
touch of his lips!

CHAPTER VIII

It was not until the dinner hour on the following day that Paul and Opal
met again. One does not require an excuse for keeping to one's stateroom
during an ocean voyage--especially during the first few days--and the
girl, though in excellent health and a capital sailor, kept herself
secluded.

She wanted to understand herself and to understand this stranger who was
yet no stranger. For a girl who had looked upon life as she had she felt
woefully unsophisticated. But the Boy? He was certainly not a man of the
world, who through years of lurid experience had learned to look upon
all women as his legitimate quarry. If he had been that sort, she told
herself, she would have been on her guard instinctively from the very
first.