narrow rose-coloured ribbon.

"Parfait d'Amour. Made of California Flowers," announced the blossomy
label. And Angela broke into laughter, repeating the name aloud, "Parfait
d'Amour!"

She had laughed very often that day.

"He knew I wouldn't give it back to him," she thought. "That would be
worse than keeping it and saying nothing."

She put the bottle down on her dressing-table, and took up the letter from
Mr. Morehouse the banker. It was a pleasant letter, extremely satisfactory
from Hilliard's point of view. It was evident that, in the two brothers
opinion, there was no reason why she should not accept the services of Mr.
Nickson Hilliard, in seeing California. The banker, who alone knew (and
would not tell) that Mrs. May was the Princess di Sereno, said "Hilliard,
who was to be introduced to you in New York if my brother had not been
ill, is a man your father would have approved. You are not travelling
alone, I understand, but have your servant. You can trust Hilliard as a
kind of glorified guide, which he wishes to be, I understand, partly out
of friendship for my brother (who hoped to show you about), partly because
he--in common with all of us Californians--is proud of our State, and
likes nothing better than bringing its beauty spots to the notice of
sympathetic strangers. That, I am sure, the daughter of my old friend
Merriam must be; and I am looking forward to her arrival in San Francisco,
which place I am too busy to leave at present. I hope our meeting may be
soon; and wish I were a married man, that I might have the pleasure of
entertaining 'Mrs. May' in my house."