ual observer it was merely the
somewhat proud and cold reserve of a lady in a public place, while
under the eyes of a strange and miscellaneous assemblage. Graydon
imagined that it might veil some resentment because he had been
so remiss in his attentions. He could scarcely maintain this view,
however, for she was as cordial to him as to any one, while at the
same time giving the impression that he was scarcely in her thoughts
at all.

Mr. Muir was perplexed also, and watched her with furtive admiration.
"If she cares for Graydon's neglect she's a superb actress," he
thought. "Great Scott! what an idiot he is, that he cannot see the
difference between this grand woman and yonder white-faced speculator!
She actually quickens the blood in my veins to-night when she fixes
her great black eyes on me."

Graydon felt her power, but believed that there was nothing in it
gentle or conciliatory toward himself. Probably her mood resulted from
a proud consciousness of her beauty and the triumphs that awaited her.
She had been young and gay heretofore with the other young people, but
now that a number of mature men, like Arnault, had appeared upon the
scene, she proposed to make a different impression. The embodiment of
her ideal might be among them. "At any rate," he concluded, "she
has the skill to make me feel that I have little place in either her
imaginings or hopes, and that for all she cares I may capture Miss
Wildmere as soon as I can. Both of us probably are so far beneath her
ideals of womanhood and manhood that she can never be friendly to
one and is fast losing her interest in the other. She has already
virtually said, 'Our relations are accidental, and if you marry Stella
Wildmere you need not hope that I shall accept her with open arms as
inseparable from one of my best friends.' 'Best friend,' indeed! Even
that amount of regard was a lingering sentiment of the past. Now that
we have met again she realizes that we have grown to be comparative
strangers, and that our tastes and interests lie apart."

Thus day after day he had some new and perturbed theory as to
Madge, in which pique, infused with cynical philosophy and utter
misapprehension, led to widely varying conclusions. Ardent and
impatient lover of another woman as he was, one thing remained
true--he could neither forget nor placidly ignore the girl who had
ceased to be his sister, and who yet was not very successful in
playing the part of a young lady frien