"It's nothing serious. Just a fancy. I shall never marry again. Men are gay deceivers; they always have been and always will be. Perhaps I'm a bit wicked; but I rather like to prove my theory that all men are weak. If I had a daughter I'd rather have her be an old man's darling than a young man's drudge. I distrust every man I know. I came to ask you and Susan to go to the opera with me to-night. You will come to my apartments first. You will come?" "To be sure we will!" "Simple little fool!" thought the Russian on the way home. "She shall see." "I believe the countess is engaged to be married," said Florence to Jones. "Indeed, miss?" "Yes. I couldn't get anything definite out of her, but she had a beautiful ring on her finger. She wants Susan and me to go to the opera with her to-night. Will that be all right?" Jones gazed abstractedly at the rug. Whenever a problem bothered him he seemed to find the solution in the delicate patterns of the Persian rugs. Finally he nodded. "I see no reason why you should not go. Only, watch out." "Jones, there is one thing that will make me brave and happy. Will you tell me if you are in direct communication with my father?" "Yes, Miss Florence," he answered promptly. "But do not breathe this to a single soul, neither Susan nor Norton." "I promise that. But, ah! hasten the day when he can come to me without fear." "That is my wish also." "You need not call me miss. Why should you?" "It might not be wise to have any one hear me call you thus familiarly," he objected gravely. "Please yourself about that. Now I must telephone Jim." "Jim?" the butler murmured. He caught the word which was not intended for his ears. But for once Jones had been startled out of himself. "Is it wrong for me to call Mr. Norton Jim?" she asked with a bit of banter. "It is not considered quite the proper thing, Miss Florence, to call a young man by his first name unless you are engaged to marry him, or grew up with him from childhood." "Well, supposing I were engaged to him?" haughtily. "That would be a very grave affair. What have you to prove that he may not wish to marry you for your money?" "Why, Jones, you know that I haven't a penny in the world I can call my own! There is nothing to prove, except your word, that I am Stanley Hargreave's daughter." "No, there is nothing to prove that you are his daughter. But hasn't it ever occurred to you that there might be a purpose back of this? Might it not be of inestimable value that your father's enemies should be left in doubt? Might it not be a means of holding them on the leash? There is proof, ample proof, my child; and when the time comes these will be shown you. But meantime put all thought of marrying Mr. Norton out of your mind."