Her eyes were gleaming through the web of light and shadow; her mouth was trembling; and there was the moisture of tears--or was it only the glitter of ice ?--on her round young cheek.

And while he looked, chilled, disapproving, unsympathetic, at the vivid flower-like bloom of her face, there seemed to flow from her and envelop him the spirit of youth itself--of youth adventurous, intrepid, and defiant; of youth rejecting the expedient and demanding the impossible; of youth eternally desirable, enchanting, and elusive.

It was as if his orderly, complacent, and tranquil soul had plunged suddenly into a bath of golden air.

Vaguely disturbed, he drew back and tried to appear dignified in spite of the fluttering pigeon.

He had no inclination for a flirtation with the Governor's daughter--intuitively he felt that such an adventure would not be a safe one; but if a flirtation were what she wanted, he told himself, with a sense of impending doom, "there might be trouble." He didn't know what she meant, but whatever it was, she evidently meant it with determination.