"Yes, I am very sure of that," Dolores admitted. "But your life is an exceptional one in this respect. You know the old mythological tale of the creation of souls? An angel stands beside a liquid sea, dipping in a long pole. Upon its point he brings up a perfect globule: it contains two souls--affinities. He gently shakes the pole--and one half rolls away: he shakes it again, and away rolls the other in an opposite direction. Day and night, for weeks, months, years, centuries, he plies his task, while the separated globules increase, and multiply, and go rolling about the world seeking their affinities. So innumerable in numbers, and so similar in appearance, it is no wonder if mistakes occur in the selections they make. The only wonder is, that one in a million actually finds its own half. You, madame, are an illustration, that such a miracle is possible, and I congratulate you. But the dreary outlook remains for the majority." Mr. Maxon removed his cigar and laughed heartily at the young lady's bright response. "You are incorrigible," he said. "Mrs. Maxon, it is useless to endeavor to worst Miss King in argument. Just wait till Prince Charming appears, however, and see how easily he will convince her that their souls were originally one perfect globule. And she will promise to love, honor, and obey, forever, without a murmur." "Never!" cried Dolores, springing to her feet. "I will never become the wife of any man--I have solemnly sworn it. I would as soon be sold into slavery. I can imagine no fate more humiliating to a proud woman, than that of a neglected or unloved wife," and she abruptly entered the house. There came a time when she realized the possibility of a fate more humiliating. That night, as Mrs. Maxon sat in her room alone, overlooking some linen, Dolores tapped gently at her door. She came forward in answer to Mrs. Maxon's bidding, her lovely hair flowing over her white garments, her face pale with suppressed emotion. "Mrs. Maxon, I have brought you my mother's diary to read," she said. "I think it will help you to better understand my ideas on the subject of marriage. No eyes save my uncle's and my own have ever perused its pages. But I want you to see it--that you may understand me more fully." And, placing the little journal in Mrs. Maxon's hand, she glided away. The following morning Dolores received a letter which brought the most unexpected changes in her life. This was the letter: "N. Y. CITY, July 30, 18--. "MISS DOLORES KING:--