"Impossible!" cried Percy, springing up—"and I am obliged to stop here! This is altogether too bad. But I hope you will kindly send your address to me at the Grand Hotel, where I shall register next week. I shall be glad to be of any service to you I can, during my few weeks in Paris."
And with that inimitable grace of the polished New Yorker, Percy bowed himself from the presence of the ladies.
And the first chapter was written in a romance which was to end in a tragedy.
[CHAPTER VIII.]
SWEET DANGER.
Y DEAR," said Mrs. Butler, one morning at the breakfast table, ten days later, as she looked up from her letters to the vision of blonde loveliness opposite, "here is a note from Mr. Durand—the American gentleman we met, you remember. He is in Paris, and wishes to call."
"That is pleasant news," Dolores answered, smiling, "and I hope you will forward our united permission and compliments by return mail."