“How handsome it is, how winning,” she thought; then she grew restless. She contrasted it in her thoughts with the fair, grave, intellectual face of Francis Murray. “Pshaw! I do not think it compares with Mr. Murray. It looks like a Jew!” she murmured, beginning to find flaws all at once; and she was just turning her back on it, when the door opened and Craig Severn returned, accompanied by a fine-looking, showily dressed woman past the middle age. “Mrs. Gardner, your husband’s friend, Miss Vale,” he said smoothly. Mrs. Gardner welcomed her effusively. “I am charmed to welcome you to my home, dear Miss Vale, and I hope you will remain our guest for a long time. I am so sorry that my husband went out to a neighbor’s a while ago, to write a will for a dying man, but he will be back in about an hour, I think. Let me help you to remove your hat, dear child, and then, if you will excuse me, I will go out and send a servant to hasten my husband’s return.” Purring like a graceful tabby cat, she hastened out, leaving the pair of young people alone. Craig Severn immediately drew his own chair close to Italy’s side, and murmured tenderly: “I am very glad to have this opportunity of declaring my sentiments for you, Miss Vale. Fair one, your grace and beauty have carried my heart by storm. I love you!” He attempted to take her hand, but she withdrew it indignantly, her large eyes flashing with surprise and scorn. “Sir, your words are presumptuous. You are little more than a stranger to me!” “No, no. I love you as fondly as though I had known you for years!” he cried, and flung himself at her feet with passionate protestations of devotion. Italy was bitterly disgusted. She repulsed her would-be lover angrily. “Rise. I will hear no more,” she exclaimed. “You _shall_ listen!” “I will not. I dislike you very much, and no power could force me to marry you!” she cried. Craig Severn laughed harshly, and sprang to his feet. “Who was talking of marriage? I only asked you for your love, my pretty queen,” he cried insolently. With a face of horror, Italy flew to the door. “I will appeal to Mr. Gardner for protection from your insults!” she cried stormily. Her persecutor laughed tauntingly, for the door resisted her efforts. It was locked on the outside. “Open the door at once, or I will scream and rouse the whole house!” she exclaimed imperiously. But he stood calmly in the middle of the room, surveying her ineffectual struggles with the door-knob with a tantalizing smile.