Mr. Senator Gwent was fairly nonplussed. This dark-eyed Spanish
beauty with her romantic notions was almost too much for him. Had he
met her in a novel he would have derided the author of the book for
delineating such an impossible character,--but coming in contact
with her in real life, he was at a loss what to say. Especially as
he himself was quite aware of the mysterious "hold" exercised by
Morgana Royal on those whom she chose to influence either near or at
a distance. After a few seconds of deliberation he answered--

"Yes--I should say there are very few women of that rather
uncomfortable sort of habit,--the fewer the better, in my opinion.
Now Miss Manella Soriso, remember what I say to you! Don't think
about being 'held' by anybody except by a lover and husband! See?
Play the game! With such looks as God has given you, it should be
easy! Win your 'god' away from his thunderbolts before he begins
havoc with them from his miniature Olympus. If he wants the 'moon'
(and possibly he doesn't!) he won't say no to a star,--it's the next
best thing. Seriously now,"--and Gwent threw away the end of his
cigar and laid a hand gently on her arm--"be a good girl and think
over what I've said to you. Marry him if you can!--it will be the
making of him!"

Manella gazed about her in the darkness, bewildered. A glittering
little mob of fire-flies danced above her head like a net of jewels.

"Oh, you talk so strangely!" she said--"You forget!--I am a poor
girl--I have no money--"

"Neither has he,"--and Gwent gave a short laugh. "But he could make
a million dollars to-morrow--if he chose. Having only himself to