Now, I may be given to harmless frivolities with men of my own age, but I certainly have never endeavored to attract those of maturer years. Elderly men may have admired me,--that I do not deny,--but assuredly that has been through no fault of my own. A woman’s gowns are always an object of attention among the sterner sex. If, therefore, she dresses smartly, she can at once attract a certain section of males, even though her facial expression may be the reverse of prepossessing. Truth to tell, a woman’s natural chic, her taste in dress, and her style of coiffure are by far the most important factors towards her well-being. The day of the healthful, buxom pink-and-white beauty is long past. The woman rendered artistic by soft chiffons, dainty blouses, and graceful tea-gowns reigns in her stead. “Old Mr. Keppel walked with me because he wanted company, I suppose,” I protested. “I had no idea such a misconstruction would be placed upon our conversation, Ulrica.” “Why, my dear, everyone noticed it and remarked about it! He neglected his guests and walked with you a whole hour in the garden. Whatever did you find to talk about all that long time?” “Nothing,” I responded simply. “He only took me round the place. I don’t think he cares very much for the people he entertains, or he wouldn’t have neglected them in that manner.” “No. But I heard some spiteful things said about yourself,” Ulrica remarked. “By whom?” “By various people. They all said that you had been angling after the old man for a long time--that you had followed him to Nice, in fact.” “Oh Ulrica!” I cried indignantly. “How can they say such things? Why, you know that it was yourself who introduced us.” “I know,” she answered rather curtly, “but I didn’t expect that you would make such a fool of yourself as you have done to-night. Have you already forgotten Ernest?” “Ah!” I cried, “you have no heart. Would that I had none. Love within me is not yet dead. Would to God it were. I might then be like you, cold and cynical, partaking of the pleasures of the world without a thought of its griefs. As I am, I must love. My love for that man is my very life. Without it I should die.” “No, no, my dear,” she said quickly in a kindly tone, “don’t cry, or your eyes will be a horrid sight to-morrow. I didn’t mean anything, you know,” and she drew down my head and kissed me tenderly on the brow. I left and went to my room, but her words rang constantly in my ears. The idea that the old millionaire had been attracted by me was a novel one. The whole theory was ridiculous. It had been started by some lying, ill-natured woman for want of something else to gossip about, therefore why should I heed it? I liked him, it was true, but I could never love him--never.