"About Mademoiselle Dulany," she continued. "Since your letter, I have made inquiries concerning her. I shall be glad to know her, for her own sake as well as yours." "I'm going to ask a great favor of you for her, Patricia," he answered. "You live in this great house alone. It would be better to have more people about you. I want you to see much of her, for I am hoping that some day she may be my wife." He spoke the last word tenderly, a bit wistfully. "Ah, Dermott," she cried, "I had no idea! I shall be so glad to do anything I can! Why couldn't she come and stay with me?" "That is like you," he answered, gratefully; "but such things can never be arranged happily. They must grow. Wait until you meet her. I am to see her to-night. I will bring her to you to-morrow, if I may." "It is arranged, this marriage?" she asked, delighted at a bit of romance. "Not in the least," he answered, concisely. "But she loves you?" "On the contrary," he said, quietly, "she loves another." "And you are hoping--" The Countess hesitated. "Not hoping," Dermott answered, "determined." "How old is she?" "Nearly nineteen, and Irish." "Irish girls are hard to change." "But you loved your second husband, did you not?" Dermott inquired. "I hope I was a good wife," the Countess answered, evasively, adding, "But you remember our own Tom Moore!" "'The wild freshness of morning--'?" Dermott stood looking into the fire, his eyes drooped, his face saddened. "But there is something else to remember as well," Madame de Nemours said, touching him on the shoulder and looking up at him admiringly. "The half-gods go when the gods arrive. And you have everything in your favor. You are so great a man and such a charming fellow, Dermott!" * * * * * On the following day Katrine came alone to see Madame de Nemours, Dermott having concluded wisely that his presence would be but a drawback to any quick acquaintance between the two. "I am Katrine," the girl answered, in response to the Countess' query. "Mr. McDermott has been so kind as to send me to you."