"Yes, but your father won't like you taking presents from that infernal Japanese, Mara," said Theodore, crossly. His nerves were so upset that he felt it would relieve him to vent his temper on someone. Mara sprang to her feet like a small fury, and her face grew darkly red, as her pale eyes blazed with anger. "You have no right to speak in that way of Count Akira. I love him; I don't care who hears me. I love him!" She sat down again suddenly. "I wish he would take me to Japan," she ended viciously. "Mara!" Theodore was horrified; "a Japanese?" "Well. I was one ages ago," she retorted. "I don't believe it." "Yes, you do. You know too much about these occult things to disbelieve." Theodore, as a matter of fact, did believe, but he did not intend to confess as much. "You can't be sure," he snapped, furiously. "I can be sure, and I am sure," said Mara, mutinously; "since I danced the Round of the Divineress and heard the music, it all has come back to me. I remember the Temple of Kitzuki quite well, and the ceremonies. Oh, I wish I could go back there. It is my native land." Theodore looked at her stealthily, and his eyes glittered as an idea struck him hard. "Would you go if Akira took you?" "Yes." Mara wet her lips and stared at him. "Perhaps he will take me," she said softly; "he is coming back in his yacht, you know." "If you went, your father would disown you." "I don't care." "You would lose Beckleigh." "I don't care." "You would be cut off from your own race." "I don't care." "You are a fool," shouted Theodore, savagely. "I'll tell your father." Mara wreathed her many-hued beads artistically round her neck and admired herself in the mirror over the fireplace. But she also had a glimpse of her cousin's face, and spoke from what she read written thereon. "No, you won't, Theodore," she observed, coolly, and meaningly; "you would be glad to see me run off with Count Akira and give up everything." "Why should I be glad?" demanded Dane, taken aback by this shrewd reading of his most secret thoughts. "Because, as you say, my father would have nothing to do with me, and you would inherit Beckleigh. I am safe in your hands." "There is no chance for me," said Theodore tartly. "Failing you, Basil would inherit." "I don't think so if he marries Patricia." "Uncle George likes Patricia." "I know that: so do we all. But I don't think he would like Basil to marry her. In fact," Mara faced him, "I believe that father would like to make Patricia my step-mother." "What!" Theodore was now really astonished. "It's absurd!" "I don't see that. Father is still a young man for his years, and----" "Oh, rubbish; nonsense!" Theodore broke furiously into her speech, and fairly ran out of the room to think over the problem thus presented to him.