She neither liked nor disliked Mr. Arnault.  He was a man of the world, reported wealthy, established in a large but not very conservative business.  He had the name of being a little fast and speculative, but she was accustomed to that style of man.  He was an open suitor who would take no rebuff, and had laughingly told her so.  After his refusal, instead of going away in despondency or in a half-tragic mood, he had good-naturedly declared his intentions, and spent the remainder of the evening in such lively chat that she had been pleased and amused by his tactics.  Since that time he had made himself useful, was always ready to be an escort with a liberal purse, and never annoyed her with sentiment.  She understood him, and he was aware that she did.  He took his chances for the future, and was always on hand to avail himself of any mood or emergency which he could turn to his advantage.  In various unimportant ways he was of service to Mr. Wildmere, but hoped more from the broker’s embarrassments than from the girl’s heart.

“I might do worse,” muttered the beauty—­“I might do worse.  If it were not for Graydon Muir, I’d decide the question at once.”

The door-bell rang, and Graydon was announced.  Even her experienced nerves had a glad tingle of excitement, she was so genuinely pleased to see him.  And well she might be, for he was a man to light any woman’s eyes with admiration.  If something of his youth had passed, his face had gained a rich compensation in the strong lines of manhood, and his manner a courtly dignity from long contact with the best elements of life.  One saw that he knew the world, but had not been spoiled by it.  That he had not become cynical was proved by his greeting of Miss Wildmere.  He was capable of hoping that her continued freedom, in spite of her remarkable beauty, might be explained on the ground of a latent regard for him, which had kept her ready for his suit after an absence so unexpectedly prolonged.  Through a friend he had, from time to time, been informed about her; and there was no ring on her hand to forbid his ardent glances.

Never before had she appeared so alluringly attractive.  He was a thorough American, and had not been fascinated by foreign types of beauty.  In his fair countrywoman he believed that he saw his ideal.  Her beauty was remarkable for a fullness, a perfection of outline, combined with a fairness and delicacy which suggested that she was not made of ordinary clay.  Miss Wildmere prided herself upon giving the impression that she was remote from all that was common or homely in life.  She cultivated the characteristic of daintiness.  In her dress, gloves, jewelry, and complexion she would be immaculate at any cost.  Graydon’s fastidious taste could never find a flaw in her, as regarded externals, and she knew the immense advantage of pleasing his eye with a delicacy that even approached fragility in its exquisite fairness, while at the same time her elastic step in the dance or promenade proved that she had abundance of vitality.