evasions, humiliating questions on the part of the public, and then
ignominious flight. He shuddered as he thought of the dull, wet days on
the Atlantic and his hideous week in America. He had been in a perpetual
state of protest against everything from the hotel service to what he
termed the "crass vulgarity of the States."

There had been but one oasis in the desert of gloom through which he had
traveled, and that had been on his interminable trip across the
continent, when for ten brief minutes his blight had been lifted, and he
had caught a breath of the incense for which his soul hungered.

It was at a little station in Wyoming that he, a convalescent from love,
had for the first time in weeks managed to look up and take a bit of
amatory nourishment. He was standing alone on the rear platform of the
observation-car, arms on railing, watching with no interest whatever
the taking off of mail-bags. Suddenly within his line of vision came a
stalwart young chap and a girl, each astride a bronco. They drew rein at
the platform, cursorily scanned the waiting train, glanced at him, then
at each other, and, apparently without the slightest reason, burst into
unrestrained merriment. Percival continued to survey them calmly and
haughtily through his monocle. His first glance had revealed the fact
that the girl was strikingly pretty. Her lithe young body showed round
and comely in its khaki suit and brown leggings. Her black mane was
braided in two short, thick plaits with a dash of scarlet ribbons at the
ends. Blue eyes, full of daring, danced under the blackest of brows, and
the smile she flashed at her companion revealed a dimple of distracting
proportions.

As Percival gazed he was quite oblivious of the fact that the laugh
was at his expense. In fact, he accorded her darting glances a far