it, I think, whatever its mood may be. I never knew why--probably
because I, too, am capricious and full of changing moods. If it is
tender and caressing, I respond to its appeal; if it is boisterous and
wild, I grow reckless and rash in sympathy; and when it is fierce and
passionate, I feel my blood rush within me. I am certainly a child of
the wind!"

"Let us hope you will never experience a cyclone," said the Count,
drily. "It might be disastrous!"

"True, it might," said Opal, and she did not smile. "I echo your kind
hope, Count de Roannes."

And the Boy looked, and listened, and loved!




CHAPTER X


As they left the dinner-table, Opal passed the Boy on her way to her
stateroom, and laying her hand upon his arm, looked up into his face
appealingly. He wondered how any man could resist her.

"Let's put the book away, Paul, and never look at it again!"

"Will you be good to me if I do?" he demanded.

She considered a moment. "How?" she asked, finally.