Some of these fair English girls may be fickle, but Pauline Potter is the same as when she knew you in Chicago.

But, John Craig, this same love can change to hate; it is but a step between the two, and no magician's wand is needed to make the transformation." Already a change has swept over her face; it does not look so lovely now, for the arched black brows meet in a frown, while from the midnight eyes the fires of aroused passions begin to scintillate.
Craig knows that when he stirs up the pool he arouses the worst elements in her nature.

Still he will not disguise his feelings and assume an ardor he is far from feeling.
Mentally he contrasts this girl with the English maid, and Pauline suffers by the comparison.
Perhaps a trifle of the scorn he feels shows upon his face.

Pauline can no longer call him her slave, and it may be this that arouses the new feeling in her heart, for a woman will never bear the sneers of one whom she has madly loved.
"This is worse than foolish, Pauline.

You seem to know at least a portion of my mission abroad, and hence must be aware that I am in no humor for love-making--that my whole soul is bound up in my search." "Well, I can help you, John," she says, quietly, holding her feelings in check until she has ventured upon this last resort.
"You can?
Then I beg of you, Pauline, to give me assistance.