God bless them, one and all--they are the chief comfort in life! Still even I, who love and respect them so much, am compelled to own that there are women wanting in purity and goodness, in modesty and reserve.

I grieve to say Coralie d'Aubergne was one of them.

She pursued me, and yet it was all so quietly done that she left me no room to speak--no ground on which to interfere.
If I went out in the gloaming to smoke a cigar, as I liked best to do among the sighs of the roses, in a few minutes that beautiful, fair face was sure to be smiling at my side.

She had a pretty, picturesque way of throwing a black lace shawl over her shoulders and of draping it round her head, so making her face look a thousand times more fair.
She would come to me with that graceful, easy, dignified walk of hers and say: "If I am not intruding, Sir Edgar, I should enjoy a few minutes with you." She had a wonderful gift of conversation--piquant, sparkling and intellectual.

If I had been the dullest of the dull, I should have known that such a woman would not pass her life as a companion unless she had some wonderful end in view.