“She is adorable!” answered Paul, enthusiastically.
“And immensely wealthy.”
“I should fall at her feet if she had not a sou.”
Mascarin gave a little cough, and adjusted his glasses.
“Should you, my lad?” said he to himself; “whether your admiration is for the girl or her money, you are in my grip.”
Then he added, aloud,—
“Would you not like to know her name?”
“Tell me, I entreat you.”
“Flavia.”
Paul was in the seventh heaven, and now boldly turned his eyes on the girl, forgetting that owing to the numerous mirrors, she could see his every movement.