"I mean that her company then was not of the choicest, but I believe
she's all right and a good enough girl. Rupe, don't bother about that.
Perhaps I shouldn't have said anything to you."

"Oh, that's all right. I'm glad you mentioned it."

Still a dull, miserable pain fastened itself in Rupert Ames' heart the
rest of the evening; and even when the company had gone, and Miss Wilton
had lingered and sweetly said "Good-night," and the lights were out,
strange thoughts and feelings drove from his eyes the sleep that usually
came peacefully to him.

Rupert Ames was in love. The fact became the central idea of his
existence.

During Rupert's busy life, love affairs had not occupied much of his
attention. Of course, he, in common with the rest of young mankind,
thought that some day he would love some girl and make her his wife; but
it was always as a far-away dream to him, connected with an angelic
perfection which he always found missing in the workaday world. His wife
must be a pure, perfect creature. Marriage was a sacred thing--one of
the great events in a person's life. Not that these views had now
changed altogether, for Miss Virginia Wilton came nearer his ideal than
anyone he had yet met. Still, there was considerable of the tangible
present about her. She was educated, businesslike, and a leader, and he,
ambitious of attaining to something in the world, would need such a
woman for his wife. But that sting which Volmer Holm had given him! His
wife must be beyond suspicion. He could not afford to make a mistake,
for if he did, it would be the mistake of his life. But was it a sin for
a girl to sing in an opera? Certainly not. Anyway, he would not condemn