real extent of her fortune, and why she should have spent so much in
restoring a "palazzo" for herself alone. An occasional thought of
"the only man" she had said she was "disposed" to like, teased his
brain; but he was not petty-minded or jealous. He was keenly and
sincerely interested in her intellectual capacity, and he knew, or
thought he knew, the nature of woman. He watched her now as she
reclined, a small slim figure in white, with the red glow of the sun
playing on the gold uptwisted coil of her hair,--a few people of the
neighbourhood had joined her at dinner, and these were seated about,
sipping coffee and chatting in the usual frivolous way of after-
dinner guests--one or two of them were English who had made their
home in Sicily,--the others were travelling Americans.

"I guess you're pretty satisfied with your location, Miss Royal"--
said one of these, a pleasant-faced grey-haired man, who for four or
five years past had wintered in Sicily with his wife, a frail little
creature always on the verge of the next world--"It would be
difficult to match this place anywhere! You only want one thing to
complete it!"

Morgana turned her lovely eyes indolently towards him over the top
of the soft feather fan she was waving lightly to and fro.

"One thing? What is that?" she queried.

"A husband!"

She smiled.

"The usual appendage!" she said--"To my mind, quite unnecessary, and