Observing that it made the San Reve more beautiful, he was taken of a natural wish to add to it.
"Yes, you shall accompany me; I would not, no not even for my Czar, be separated from you, my San Reve." Storri was as fond of fiction as Mr.Harley, and of a far livelier imagination.

Once started on an untruth, he would pursue it hither and yon as a greyhound courses a hare.

Like every artist of the mendacious, he was quick for those little deeds that would give his lies a look of righteous integrity.

Thus it befell on the occasion in hand.
"Behold now," cried Storri, as though the idea had just occurred to him, "I will, while the thought is fresh with me, telegraph a friend in New York to select our staterooms for the next ship after June first." Storri wrote his message; the San Reve watching him, her heart a-brim with love and the happiness of returning home.

She would see France, see Paris--see them with the man whom she adored! Storri whirred the telegraph call that was fixed in the hall; presently a gray-coat lad appeared and bore away the message.