CHAPTER IV.
MILLIONS MAY NOT PURCHASE LOVE.
"Would it be presumptuous if I asked to know her name, Roderic—this girl of San Juan who risked so much to save your reputation if not your life? I feel under obligations to her, for your name is very dear to those who know you—those bound to you by ties of consanguinity."
"She comes of Spanish descent, but her heart is now only wrapped up in the future of the lovely gem of the Antilles. Her name is Georgia Inez de Brabant."
Perhaps his manner gave evidence that she was treading on dangerous ground.
"Thank you. Perhaps some day fortune may bring us together. I shall try to love her, Roderic, because you call her your friend!"
Then she branched off upon the subject of the cruise, to which she seemed to look forward with almost childish delight.
It is not every one to whom is given the proud fortune to own a modern steam yacht, and this daughter of Eve could be forgiven a fair amount of exhilaration under the circumstances.
Perhaps, truth to tell, the prospect of ten days basking in the company of her athletic cousin had something to do with her light spirits.
Owen's time was not wholly his own, so that he was soon forced to sally forth upon the streets of the Irish metropolis.
When Cleo was alone she hastened to her luxurious apartments and searching the inmost recesses of an inlaid traveling writing desk which had been taken from a capacious trunk, she soon pounced upon a small photograph.