Magdalena smiled gratefully. Tiny had always been the kindest of the girls. "I am glad you think I am not so bad," she said. "But I fear that I have bored everybody." "_Indeed_, you have not. You are so calm and full of natural repose. The rest of us seem _dreadfully_ American by contrast." "You are never fussy." "I know, but it is _quite_ different. I've been very carefully brought up. You would be exactly as you are if you had brought yourself up. The Spanish are the most dignified--What are they going to do, I wonder?" Mr. Fort approached. "We are going to walk about the grounds and step on the frogs," he said. "I don't know a line of poetry, but I can count stars, and I'll tell you of my aspirations in life. Will you come?" "I _so_ want to hear your aspirations, Mr. Fort," said Tiny. "I did not know that California men had aspirations." The girls went with him to the verandah, and all started down the driveway together, then paired. To her surprise, Magdalena found Trennahan beside her. "I am so glad to be with you again," he said petulantly. "I am tired of types." "Types?" "Yes; women that a man has been used to for many long weary years,--to put it in another way." "But surely you find Ila very fascinating?" "Oh, yes; but one understands the fascination so well; and it gives so much pleasure to--twenty-two, that it is almost immoral for an old fogy like myself to monopolise it. I don't understand you in the least, so I am here." Magdalena trembled a little. The nineteen years of her life suddenly assumed a glad complexion, lifting her spirit to the level of her mates. She tried to recall the sad and bitter experiences of her brief past, but they scampered down into the roots of memory. He did not speak again for a time, beyond asking if he might smoke. He was quite sincere for the moment; but he understood the much of her that was salient to his trained eye. Her parents, her timid reserve, so unlike that of other American girls favoured by fortune, her ignorance of certain conventionalities, the very fashion of her hair, the very incompatibility of her costume and colouring, told him two thirds of her short history. Of the history of her inner life he guessed little, but believed that she had both depth of mind and intensity of feeling. To get her confidence would be next to impossible; it was therefore well worth the effort. If she proved as interesting as he suspected, he believed that he should feel disposed to marry her did she only have a complexion. He was weary straight down into the depths of his weary soul of the women and the girls of the world; but he also abhorred a sallow skin. He had worshipped beauty in his day, and was by no means impervious to it yet; but he felt that he could overlook Magdalena's nose and mouth and elementary figure for the sake of her eyes and originality, did she only possess the primary essential of beauty. A man regards a woman's lack of complexion as a personal grievance.