particular about them--perhaps the florist would understand better what
he wanted when he knew they were for Miss Lopez at the Albion and were
designed to match her gypsy dress.

Ah, perfectly--several vases were drawn forward--and over these the two
men talked of Miss Lopez and her admirable performance.

"A true artist," the florist thought, "young, and without training as
Monsieur can see. A Californian, a girl of the people, risen from
nothing. But no doubt Monsieur has already heard her history."

Monsieur was a stranger, he knew little of the lady, and, apparently
engrossed in his selection of the flowers, heard such facts in the career
of Pancha Lopez as the public were allowed to know. The florist ended the
biography with what should be--for the gentleman ordering so costly a
bouquet--the most notable item--Miss Lopez was a girl of spotless
reputation.

Monsieur looked surprised:

"Has no favored one, no lovers?"

The florist, combining a scarlet carnation with a sunset rose, shrugged
his shoulders, treating the subject with the lively gravity of the Gaul:

"None, Monsieur. It is known that many men have paid their court, but
no--good-day to you and out they go! She wants nobody--it is all work,
work, work. A good, industrious girl, very unusual when one considers her
beginnings. But being so, and with her talents, she will arrive. My God,
it is certain."