words--"I'll be master of the world" knocked repeatingly on his
brain with an uncomfortable thrill. He gathered up the straying
threads of his common sense and twisted them into a tough string.

"That's all nonsense!" he said, as gruffly as he could--"He's not a
god by any means! I'm afraid you think too much of him, Miss--Miss--
er--"

"Soriso," finished Manella, gently--"Manella Soriso."

"Thank you!" and Gwent sought for a helpful cigar which he lit--"You
have a very charming name! Yes--believe me, you think too much of
him!"

"You say that? But--are you not his friend?"

Her tone was reproachful.

But Gwent was now nearly his normal business self again.

"No,--I am scarcely his friend"--he replied--"'Friend' is a big
word,--it implies more than most men ever mean. I just know him--
I've met him several times, and I know he worked for a while under
Edison--and--and that's about all. Then I THINK"--he was cautious
here--"I THINK I've seen him at the house of a very wealthy lady in
New York--a Miss Royal--"

"Ah!" exclaimed Manella--"That is the name of the fairy woman who
came here!"