“I do not see it that way at all, Opal.  It seems to me—­well, diabolical, and may God help you, dear girl, when you, with your high-keyed sensitive nature, first wake to the infamy of it!  I have no right to interfere—­no right at all.  Not even my love for you, which is stronger than myself, gives me that right.  For I am betrothed!  I tell you this because I see where my folly has led us.  There is only one thing to do.  We must part—­and at once.  I am sorry”—­then he thought of that first meeting on board the liner, “no, I am not sorry we met!  I shall never be that!  But I am going to be a man.  I am going to do my duty.  Help me, Opal—­help me!”

It was the old appeal of the man to the helpmeet God had created for him, and the woman in her responded.

“Paul, I will!” and her little fingers closed over his.

“Of course he loves you—­in his way, but——­”

“Don’t, Paul, don’t!  He has never once pretended that—­he has been too wise.”

“He will break your spirit, dear—­it’s his nature.  And then he will break your heart!”

She raised her head, defiantly.

“Break my spirit, Paul?  He could not.  And as for my heart—­that will never be his to break!”

Their eyes met with the old understanding that needs no words.  Then she pointed to the heavens.

“See the stars, Paul, smiling down so calmly.  How can they when hearts are aching?  When I was a child, I loved the stars.  I fancied, too, that they loved me, and I would run out under their watchful eyes, singing for very joy, sure they were guiding my life and that some day I would be happy, gloriously happy.  Somehow, Paul, I always expected to be happy—­always!—­till now!  Now the stars seem to mock me.  I must have been born under a baleful conjunction, I guess.  Oh, I told you, Paul, that Opals were unlucky.  I warned you—­didn’t I warn you?  I may have tempted you, too, but—­I didn’t mean to do it!”

“Bless your dear heart, girl, you weren’t to blame!”

“But you said—­that night—­about the tiger——­”

“Forgive me, Opal, I was not myself.  I was—­excited.  I didn’t mean that.”

After a moment, she said, musingly, “It is just as I said, Paul.  I was born to go to the devil, so it is well—­well for you, I mean—­and perhaps for me—­that you and I cannot marry.”  He shook his head, but she went on, unheeding.  “Paul, if I am destined to be a disgrace to someone—­and they say I am—­I’d rather bring reproach upon his name than on yours!”

“But why marry at all, if you feel like that?  Why, it’s—­it’s damnable!”

“Don’t you see, Paul, I am foreordained to evil—­marked a bad woman from the cradle!  Marriage is the only salvation, you know, for girls with my inheritance.  It’s the sanctuary that keeps a woman good and ’happy ever after.’”

“It would be more apt, in my opinion, to drive one to forbidden wine!  A marriage like that, I mean—­for one like you.”