"Paris is so consoling!" commented Myra satirically. "Just the sort of
quiet, soothing place where a heart-broken lover can find solace! I
shall waste no sympathy on Don Carlos."

She was piqued and puzzled, and a little exasperated by the thought
that Don Carlos was playing a joke on her.

"He probably thinks I am deeply in love with him, and flatters himself
I shall be hurt and grieved by his sudden departure," reflected Myra.
"Perhaps he thinks he is paying me back in my own coin, and he will
find me ready to fall into his arms, so to speak, on his return. If
so, I can promise him a disappointment."

She tried to put Don Carlos out of her mind, but she found herself
thinking of him continually. Often in her dreams she was again
enfolded in his arms with his lips crushed on her own, and she would
wake with her heart throbbing wildly.

Tony never managed to set her heart throbbing in the same way. Myra
wished he could and would. Perhaps it was her dreams of Don Carlos
that caused her to be particularly nice to Tony during the next week or
two, and to try to persuade herself that she was really in love with
him.

No word came from Don Carlos, but he duly presented himself aboard the
Killarney, Tony Standish's yacht, on the appointed day. And he
looked as little like a heart-broken, forlorn lover as anyone could
imagine. Indeed, he seemed to be in exceptionally high spirits, talked
gaily of the enjoyable time he had had in Paris, explaining that he had
combined business with pleasure.