demanded no hearts; she craved no jewels, no flattery. She warmed when
eyes told her she was beautiful; but she chilled whenever the lips took
up the speech, and voiced it. She was one of those happy beings in
either sex who can amuse themselves, who can hold pleasant communion
with the inner self, who can find romance in old houses, and yet love
books, who prefer sunrises and sunsets at first hand, still loving a
good painting.

Perhaps this trend of character was the result of her inherited love of
the open. With almost unlimited funds under her own hand, she lived
simply. She was never happy in smart society, though it was always
making demands upon her. When abroad, she was generally prowling
through queer little shops instead of mingling with the dress parades
on the grand-hotel terraces. There was no great battle-field in Europe
she had not trod upon. She knew them so well that she could people
each field with the familiar bright regiments, bayonets and sabers,
pikes and broadswords, axes and crossbowmen, matchlock and catapult,
rifles and cannon.

And what she did not know of naval warfare her father did. They were
very companionable. There was never any jealousy on the part of the
admiral. Indeed, he was always grateful when some young man evinced a
deep regard for his daughter. He would have her always, married or
unmarried. He was rich enough, and the son-in-law should live with
him. He was so assured of her good judgment, he knew that whenever
this son-in-law came along, there would be another man in the family.
He had long ceased to bother his head about the flylike buzzing of
fortune hunters. He had been father and mother and brother to the
child, and with wisdom.