“I am going to marry your father, my dear,” she said, “and I want you to be the first to wish me joy.”

The dinner went off with great gayety.  The widow especially was full of bright sayings, and Captain Fitzgerald made the most devoted lover.  Not too elated by his good-fortune, and yet thoroughly happy and tender.  He continually told himself that fate had been uncommonly kind to mix business and pleasure so dexterously, for if the widow had not possessed a cent, he still would have been glad to marry her.

He had been quite honest with her on their drive, explaining his financial situation and his disadvantages, which he said could only be slightly balanced by his devotion and affection—­but of those he would lay the whole at her feet.

And the widow had said: 

“Now look here, I am old enough just to know what my money is worth—­and if you like to put it as a business speculation for me, I consider, in buying the companion for the rest of my life who happens to suit me, I am laying out the sum to my own advantage.”

After that there was no more to be said, and he had spent his time making love to her like any Romeo of twenty, and both were content.

All through dinner a certain strange excitement dominated Theodora.  She felt there would be more deep emotion yet to come for her before the day should close.

How were they going back to Paris?

The moon had risen pure and full, she could see it through the windows.  The night was soft and warm, and when the last sips of coffee and liqueurs were finished it was still only nine o’clock.

On an occasion when no personal excitement was stirring Captain Fitzgerald he probably would have hesitated about approving of Theodora spending the entire evening alone with Lord Bracondale.  She was married, it was true—­but to Josiah Brown—­and Dominic Fitzgerald knew his world.  To-night, however, neither the widow nor he had outside thoughts beyond themselves.  Indeed, Mrs. McBride was so overflowing with joy she had almost a feeling of satisfaction in the knowledge that the others would possibly be happy too—­when she thought of them at all!

Again she decided the situation for every one, and again fate laughed.

There was no use staying any longer at Versailles, because the park gates were shut and they could not stroll in the moonlight, but a drive back and a few turns in the Bois with a little supper at Madrid would be a fitting ending to the day.

“You must meet us at Madrid at half-past ten,” she said; “and Dominic”—­the name came out as if from long habit—­“telephone for a table in the bosquet—­Numero 3—­I like that garcon best, he knows my wants.”

And so they got into their separate automobiles.

“Let us have all the windows down,” said Theodora, “to get all the beautiful air—­it is such a lovely night.”

Her heart was beating as it had never beat before.  How could she control herself!  How keep calm and ordinary during the enchanting drive!  Her hands were cold as ice, while flaming roses burned in the white velvet cheeks.