rd as a
kind of glorified guide, which he wishes to be, I understand, partly out
of friendship for my brother (who hoped to show you about), partly because
he--in common with all of us Californians--is proud of our State, and
likes nothing better than bringing its beauty spots to the notice of
sympathetic strangers. That, I am sure, the daughter of my old friend
Merriam must be; and I am looking forward to her arrival in San Francisco,
which place I am too busy to leave at present. I hope our meeting may be
soon; and wish I were a married man, that I might have the pleasure of
entertaining 'Mrs. May' in my house."

When Angela had read the letter twice she let it fall, and again took up
the bottle of perfume. Untying the bow of pink ribbon, she pulled out the
heart-shaped glass stopper, and breathed the fragrance of "Parfait
d'Amour, made from California flowers."

The name might be laughable, but the fragrance was exquisite as the sweet
air among the orange groves.

Angela sighed, without knowing that she sighed, as she put the bottle down
and pushed it away.

She did not even look at it again until she was ready to switch off the
electric light, and try to sleep, after Kate had finished her
ministrations. Then, once more, Mrs. May sniffed daintily at the "Parfait
d'Amour," as a bird hovers near a tempting crumb thrown by a hand it
fears. She wondered what flowers made up this sweetness, so different from
any perfume she had known.

"It's California," she said to herself. "Essence of California."

Long after she had gone to bed, Angela lay awake, not restless, but
vaguely excited, as she listened to a mouse in the hinterland of the wall,
and thought her own thoughts, that floated from subject to subject. But
always she could smell the perfume which--or she imagined it--filled the
room with its sweetness. It was a pity that the scent had been given such
a silly name!

"If the people of this country can be unconventional when they like, why
shouldn't _I_ be unconventional, if I like?" she asked of the darkness.
"It's so gay and amusing to make believe, and so--beautiful." It occurred
to her that she had just begun to live. Now a door had opened before her
eyes, and she saw a new world that was big and glorious, ready to give her
a welcome.

"There's something in being a married woman, and going about as I choose,"
she thought, "even if it is only in the country of make-believe. Why
shouldn't I do what he asks m