His boyish face grew troubled and perplexed.

"I _thought_ I had, Opal--till I knew you! Now I do not know! Fate seems
to have taken a hand in the game and my theories are cast aside like
worthless cards. I begin to see more clearly that we cannot always
choose our paths."

"Can one ever, Paul?"

"Perhaps not! Once I believed implicitly in the omnipotence of the human
will to make life just what one wished. Now"--and he searched her
eyes--"I know better."

"Unlucky Opal, to cross your path!" she sighed. "Are you superstitious,
Paul? Do you know that opals bring bad luck to those who come beneath
the spell of their influence?"

"I'll risk the bad luck, Opal!"

And she smiled.

And he thought as he looked at her, how well she understood him! What an
inspiration would her love have brought to such a life as he meant his
to be! What a Récamier or du Barry she would have made, with her
_piquante_, captivating face, her dark, lustrous, compelling eyes, her
significant gestures, which despite many wayward words and phrases,
expressed only lofty and majestic thoughts! Her whole regal little
body, with its irresistible power and charm, was so far beyond most
women! She was life and truth and ambition incarnate! She was the spirit
of dreams and the breath of idealism and the very soul of love and