"I am not refractory, I am indignant, and I have a right to be. They cannot justify the liberty they have taken, besides I will not accept notoriety--I--" "There, now, dear, that is what Lois said, and Milton John Jones, my nephew, was at first bound that he wouldn't let Tom, my brother, advertise him; but he soon saw his way clear, I assure you, and now he publishes four serials at once. Be prudent, dear, be prudent." "But the idea of picturing me with great barbaric rings in my ears and with a corkscrew curl on each side and--" Dufour interrupted her with a laugh almost hearty enough to be called a guffaw, and Mrs. Black smiled indulgently as if at a clever child which must be led, not driven. "Being conscious that you really are stylish and beautiful, you needn't care for the picture," said Dufour, in a tone of sturdy sincerity. "There is nothing so effective as a foil," added Mrs. Black. Miss Moyne arose and with her pretty chin slightly elevated walked away. "How beautiful she is!" exclaimed Dufour, gazing after her, "and I am delighted to know that you are taking an interest in her." Mrs. Black smiled complacently, and with a bland sidewise glance at him, remarked: "She grows upon one." "Yes," said he, with self-satisfied obtuseness, "yes, she is magnetic, she is a genuine genius." "Precisely, she stirs one's heart strangely," replied Mrs. Black. "Yes, I have noted that; it's very remarkable." "You should speak of it to her at the first opportunity." Dufour started a little, flushed and finally laughed as one does who discovers a bit of clever and harmless treachery. "If I only dared," he presently said, with something very like fervor in his tone. "If I only dared." Mrs. Black looked at him a moment, as if measuring in her mind his degree of worthiness, then with a wave of her hand she said: "Never do you dare to dare. Mr. Crane stands right in your path." Dufour leaped to his feet with the nimbleness and dangerous celerity of a tiger. "Crane!" he exclaimed with a world of contempt in his voice, "If he--" but he stopped short and laughed at himself. Mrs. Black looked at him with a patronizing expression in her eyes. "Leave it to me," she said, in her most insinuating tone. XIII. Crane tried not to show the bitterness he felt as he saw his hope of winning the favor of Miss Moyne fading rapidly out, but now and again a cloud of irresistible melancholy fell upon him. At such times it was his habit to lean upon the new fence that circumscribed Hotel Helicon and dreamily smoke a cigar. He felt a blind desire to assassinate somebody, if he could only know who. Of course not Peck, for Peck, too, was disconsolate, but somebody, anybody who would claim the place of a successful rival. One morning while he stood thus regaling himself with his tobacco and his misery, Tolliver rode up, on a handsome horse this time, and, lifting his broad hat, bowed picturesquely and said: "Good mornin,' Kyernel, how're ye this mornin'?"