Miss Daisy Hyslop received Francis that afternoon, in the sitting-room of her little suite at the Milan.

Her welcoming smile was plaintive and a little subdued, her manner undeniably gracious.

She was dressed in black, a wonderful background for her really gorgeous hair, and her deportment indicated a recent loss.
"How nice of you to come and see me," she murmured, with a lingering touch of the fingers.

"Do take that easy-chair, please, and sit down and talk to me.

Your roses were beautiful, but whatever made you send them to me ?" "Impulse," he answered.
She laughed softly.
"Then please yield to such impulses as often as you feel them," she begged.