poor mamma had beautiful
jewels, but they went the way of all things."

Gwynne looked at his watch. "I shall get a bite in town," he said. "The
shops will be open till midnight. Hofer will endorse a check for me; I
have sold three farms in the past week and have a pot of money in the
bank. There is something else I want you to wear to-night--"

"I won't take jewels from you--"

"You are not only my fiancee but my cousin--"

"Nonsense!"

"I shall be back in about two hours. Mind you are sitting just there
when I arrive."

As he went swiftly out and closed the door, she shrugged her shoulders,
and her eyes danced with anticipation. After all, she could return his
present when the farce was over, and she was in a mood to have the world
poured into her lap.

She dined alone with her Puritan and Spanish ancestors, and when the
brief meal was over, went up and exhibited herself to Lady Victoria, who
was in a state of silent fury at being the victim of a headache. She
complimented Isabel upon her appearance, however, and added:

"I hope this pretended engagement will end in reality. You are of our
blood. I recognize it more and more. I am thankful he escaped Julia
Kaye. You are--could be--all I am afraid I compelled myself to believe
she was."

"Do you want him to go back to England?" asked Isabel. "I had a letter
from Flora the other day, and she thinks it is my mission to restore him
to his country."

"I don't care. What difference does it make? I want him to be happy, and
he can have a career anywhere. In your case beauty is not a curse, and I
should be glad to see you concentrate your gifts where you can find and
give real happiness. Now, enjoy yourself like a girl to-night and don't
bother about Jack or any one else--certainly not about me," as Isabel
stood looking down upon her with a puckered brow.

Lady Victoria, in a negligee of salmon pink under a red light, and
reclining on her divan with a box of cigarettes beside her, and a French
novel in her hand, looked little less handsome than when she had
captivated Isabel's girlish fancy a year ago. It was only the utter
weariness of the eyes, and a subtle hardening of the whole mask of the
always immobile face, that betrayed the sudden rupture with a long
complacent youth. But she looked at Isabel's glorious youth without a
pang of envy in her cynical, if not yet philosophical, soul, and said
again, with emphasis:

"Marry him. You can do it. Any woman can m