He spoke eloquently, pleadingly, his resonant voice resounding rich and mellow through the empty corridors. As the girl listened, her face grew thoughtful. She clasped and unclasped her hands nervously. Her large, luminous eyes shone with a new light. Rapidly, spasmodically, with growing exaltation, she replied: "Yes--yes--you are right. I had not thought of that. My work is there--not here. We will go at once--at once. I'll start packing immediately." Mr. Ricaby smiled. "That's the way to talk," he said cheerily. "You see I knew you better than you knew yourself. Of course, it won't be altogether plane sailing. You must be prepared for----" He hesitated. "Prepared for what?" she demanded, looking at him curiously. "Well, you see, you'll have to meet your relatives, and, as they are totally ignorant of your very existence, your sudden appearance will be a shock to them, especially to your Uncle James who, during all these years, has come to look upon the money as his own." "Poor Uncle James!" she murmured. "I'm so sorry." "Don't waste any sympathy on him. He isn't worth it," smiled the lawyer. "Your uncle, I'm sorry to say, does not enjoy a very good reputation in New York. His brother knew his character and would have nothing to do with him. Your father kept his marriage a secret from him and rather than destroy the old will, in which he had left James everything, he made a new one leaving everything to you." Paula turned away in order to hide the tears that filled her eyes. "Poor father," she murmured. "I would rather have had his love than his money." A lump rose in the lawyer's throat, and, the better to conceal his feelings, he suddenly became interested in the surrounding paintings. His heart went out to this orphaned girl. Practically she stood alone in the world to fight her battles. He realized the probability of the later will being fiercely contested. He thought with forebodings of the impending and long drawn-out legal battle, of all the insults that the disappointed James Marsh and his family would heap upon this defenceless girl--their hints of illegitimacy and other unscrupulous methods of attack, all of which would distress and humiliate a delicate and sensitive girl. If she knew what was in store for her, perhaps she would hesitate. But she would not fight the battle alone as long as he was able to champion her cause. He would see that her rights were fully protected. Taking up her palette and brushes Paula went on with her painting. Quietly she said: "Very well, Mr. Ricaby. You know best. We will sail on Saturday." "That's a sensible girl! I came to take you to luncheon. It's just twelve o'clock. Can you come?" She pointed at the canvas. "I have still a little to finish. Then I'm done for the day. I can't work in the afternoon--the light is not good. Couldn't you make it half an hour later?"