,
whom he still admired at a distance, although he fled at her approach,
was a bouncing peasant by contrast; and several well-bred and
entertaining young women of the same warm hues that he had met during
the past few weeks in San Francisco suddenly seemed to be the merest
climatic accidents beside this girl who unrolled the pages of
California's older past and afforded him a fleeting vision of those
lovely donas and fiery caballeros for whom life was an eternal
playground. That they were his progenitors as well as hers he found it
difficult to realize, he seemed to have inherited so little of them; but
they had flown generously to Isabel's making, and to-night she gave him
that same impression of historic background as when she turned the
severity of her profile up on him and suggested a doughtier race.

"It was about the same time," he said, abruptly.

"What?"

"While our Spanish ancestors were playing at this end of the continent,
our 'American' forefathers were bracing themselves against England. It
was in 1776 that the Presidio and Mission of San Francisco were founded,
was it not? Curious coincidence. Perhaps that is what gives you your
sense of destiny."

"I have no sense of destiny."

"Oh, but you have. Now I know that you are quite Spanish to-night. It is
your more ordinary mood of calm unvarnished--not to say
brutal--directness that gives you your greatest charm as a comrade--even
while you repel as a woman."

"Do I repel as a woman?" Isabel had placed one foot on the fender, one
hand on the mantel-piece, and as she leaned slightly towards him, the
red glow of the lamps and the mellow old scarf softening her features,
the small square of neck dazzlingly white, and the position revealing
the lines of her figure against the high flames of the logs, she looked
more lovely than he had ever seen her. Like all racial beauties, bred by
selection, she needed the arts of dress and furnishings to frame her.
It is only your accidental or peasant beauty that can defy "clothes";
and Isabel's looks in ordinary ranch and riding costumes made no
impression on Gwynne whatever. But to-night her appeal was very direct,
although he had not the least idea whether she was posing or was
entirely natural in an unusual mood. He had no intention of being made a
fool of, however, and answered with the responsive glow in his eyes due
a pretty and charming woman:

"Sometimes. Not to-night. If you would remain Spanish with no
Rev