friends."

Usually, when two young people have reached the point of
confidingly exchanging their first impressions of each other, some
progress has been made in first acquaintance. But it did not
strike Paul in that way, and Yerba's next remark was discouraging.

"But I'm rather disappointed, for all that. Colonel Pendleton
tells me you know nothing of my family or of the secret."

Paul was this time quite prepared, and withstood the girl's
scrutiny calmly. "Do you think," he asked lightly, "that even HE
knows?"

"Of course he does," she returned quickly. "Do you suppose he
would have taken all that trouble you have just talked about if he
didn't know it? And feared the consequences, perhaps?" she added,
with a slight return of her previous expressive manner.

Again Paul was puzzled and irritated, he knew not why. But he only
said pleasantly, "I differ from you there. I am afraid that such a
thing as fear never entered into Colonel Pendleton's calculations
on any subject. I think he would act the same towards the highest
and the lowest, the powerful or the most weak." As she glanced at
him quickly and mischievously, he added, "I am quite willing to
believe that his knowledge of you made his duty pleasanter."

He was again quite sincere, and his slight sympathy had that
irresistible quality of tone and look which made him so dangerous.
For he was struck with the pretty, soothed self-complacency that