fond of their young guest, and made much of his annual visits. As for
Paul himself, he never seemed to be perfectly happy anywhere if the
young fellow were out of his sight.

He had made himself very much distinguished, had this Paul Verdayne. He
had found out how to get the most out of his life and accomplish the
utmost good for himself and his England with the natural endowments of
his energetic and ambitious personality. He had become a famous orator,
a noted statesman, a man of brain as well as brawn. People were glad to
listen when he talked. He inspired them with the idea--so nearly extinct
in this day and age of the world--that life after all was very much
worth the living. He stirred languid pulses with a dormant enthusiasm.
He roused torpid brains to thought. He had ideas and had also a way of
making other people share those ideas. England was proud of Paul
Verdayne, as she had good reason to be. And he was only forty-three
years old even now. What might he not accomplish in the future for the
land to which he devoted all his talents, his tireless, well-directed
activities?

He had given himself up so thoroughly to political interests that he had
not taken time to marry. This was a great disappointment to his mother,
Lady Henrietta, who had set her heart upon welcoming a daughter-in-law
and a houseful of merry, romping grandchildren before the sun of her
life had gone down forever. It was also a secret source of
disappointment to certain younger feminine hearts as well, who in the
days of his youth, and even in the ripeness of later years, had regarded
Paul Verdayne with eyes that found him good to look upon. But the young
politician had never been a woman's man. He was chivalrous, of course,
as all well-bred Englishmen are, but he kept himself as aloof from all
society as politeness would permit, and the attack of the most