The love Georgia had given him was so entirely different from the pure, unselfish devotion of which Cleo was capable--he knew this as well as any one, and yet with his eyes open he had chosen the rush of the hurricane to the calm, steady current of never changing regard. Love is a little god who will have his way despite reason and philosophy. Once poor mortal falls under his sway and farewell to discernment--from that time on Cupid sits in the balance, and weighs things to suit his own capricious nature. Thus our good Roderic found himself worried with a variety of new questions, such as it had not occurred to him before could ever come up in connection with his affairs. They cropped up before him in his business and he found it utterly impossible to get rid of them. What was on the heart must have a place in the mind in spite of stern endeavors to banish his own private affairs from the front. Thus the day wore on. Things worked fairly well. He sent some letters, and toward the close of the afternoon some telegrams in cipher intended for those connected with the government at Washington in whose special line he was working. Finally he pronounced his work done. Unless some late orders, which he did not look for, turned up to intercept him, he was free to shake the dust of old Erin from his shoes on the morrow. He anticipated the voyage to the West Indies with considerable pleasure, for, as the veil of the future can not be raised by mortal hands, how was he to know what strange happenings might occur before the anchor was lifted, to change his relations to the owner of the yacht? About sundown he visited a store on Lower Sackville street where he had been receiving his mail. There was a message awaiting him. It came from Darby. How that remarkable man had managed to mail the letter was a puzzle to Roderic, but no doubt he had prepared the envelope with a stamp and found some means of getting it posted by bribing a sailor. Darby could accomplish anything under heaven when he made up his mind. The note was brief and epigrammatic, just as Darby's speech had always been. Time was worth money to him, and he used very few words. "They got me as per agreement. We are on the way to Havre. Will touch at coast of Cornwall for private reasons of captain. Mail this there if possible. The French m'amselle aboard. Charming young woman. Think I shall be pleasantly entertained, as she has a voice like a bird. Do not pity me, comrade. I may go all the way to Monte Carlo. Who could refuse such good fortune? More anon." That was all. Roderic laughed when he read it. "What a sly dog that Darby is--outwardly an iceberg, a glacier, he yet possesses the capacity for adoring lovely woman. Perhaps he may yet be wrecked upon the same reefs that have been the destruction of so many. Alas! poor Yorick. But I am willing to wager that at least he extracts some fun out of this game before he gives up the ghost." And now, dinner!