But Isabel was an ardent dreamer, and as she sat in her silent old home, high above the city's unresting life, she imagined herself into a blissful picture where she should realize to the full all the desires dear to the heart of a girl. It was true that she had created a _furore_ that night at Arcot, but her triumph had been extinguished by fright and the tragedies that came in its train. And no triumph abroad ever quite equals the conquest of your own territory. Isabel concluded that if it were a matter of a single season, she would rather reign in San Francisco than in London--but her dreams were cut short by Gwynne's rapid step on the plank walk, and a moment later he was tapping on her door. She looked up at him with undisguised expectancy. "I am going to enjoy it," she said. "I shall accept it. I don't care!" "I should hope so, after all the trouble I have had." He sat down in a low chair beside the dressing-table and facing her. "Hofer had been turned out of the house and had taken refuge at the Mission. I took an automobile and rushed out there, only to find that he and his friends had concluded to come in and dine at one of the restaurants. Definite, but I know their tastes pretty well, and finally tracked them down. By that time I was starved, but when the dinner was over Hofer went with me himself to the jeweller's--" "What is it?" asked Isabel, impatiently, her eyes on a long box Gwynne had taken from his pocket. But Gwynne seldom had an opportunity to tease her. He drew his finger along the heavy coil of hair that rose from the very nape of her neck and pushed forward a soft little mass on to the brow. "I have always wanted to see something here," he said. "I remember once seeing a lovely print of the Empress Elizabeth of Austria, who wore her hair somewhat as you do--" "Not a bit of it. Her hair was generally half-way down her back--" "Well the effect was the same--and in this print she had a row of daisies or stars; I never could remember which--" "You haven't brought me daisies?" said Isabel, in disgust. Gwynne pressed the little gilt nob, and as the lid flew up Isabel cried out, with delight. "You shouldn't! But I don't care! I said I wouldn't. I never expected anything so gorgeous, though--" She caught the box from his hand and fastened the diamond stars in the line he had indicated. There were five, graduated in size, and they gave her beauty its final touch of poetry and light. Isabel gazed at her dazzling reflection with parted lips and dancing eyes, then turned impulsively, flung her arms about Gwynne's neck, and kissed him. He pushed her away roughly. "Don't do that again!" he said. "I am not your brother, nor one of your girl friends. Can I look about? I have always had a curiosity to see this room. I had an idea that it was different from the one at the ranch."