Marise and Garth neatly arranged their life according to stateroom etiquette on shipboard. When one was in the bedroom the other was in the sitting-room next door. They were like the figures of the man and woman who come out and go in at the adjacent doors of a barometer; and the plan, though inconvenient, was not unworkable. When the girl had opened the jewel-cases and gazed once more at the glories she had thought lost forever to her repentant eyes, she couldn't resist tapping on the wall with a gold-backed hair-brush—one Garth had given her. Indeed, she did not stop to think better of the impulse.

Her heart—or some distantly related muscles round the organ—had suddenly warmed towards the man. This thaw was doubtless produced by remorse. For she had believed, on no evidence save instinct, that he had given these lovely things—her wedding presents, although discarded!—to Zélie Marks. Instead, he must have expressed them to Mrs. Mooney in order that she—Marise—should have a chance to change her mind. Foxy of him, because it would be difficult to refuse the gifts again, coming as they did from the innocent hands of Mothereen! However, she would see. She'd have a talk with Garth, and then decide.

Garth was in the sitting-room, pretending to himself that he was interested in the evening paper. He jumped up at the sound of a tap on the wall, hardly believing his own ears. But a knock at Marise's door brought a "Come in!" which did not sound grudging.

Marise in a so-called robe de chambre was more dressed than in "Dolores's" third act ball-gown at the theatre, yet there was such a bizarre touch of intimacy in being admitted to this bedroom scene on the stage of life that numerous volts of electricity seemed to shoot through Garth's nerves. His face was composed, however, even stolid. "You wanted me?" he asked.

Marise didn't directly answer that question. She pointed to the jewel-cases. "Mrs.—Mooney put these here," she said. "I—wanted to tell you I'm glad they weren't stolen or—anything."

Her words gave him time to swallow his surprise, which was quite as great as her own had been at sight of the jewels. But he guessed at once what had happened. What a trump Zélie was! A grand girl! She'd make a fine wife for someone. He'd been a clumsy ass to force these things upon her in a moment of fury against Marise; and Zélie had done exactly right. He was immensely grateful. Some day he must find a way to repay her for silently handing him a big chance—a chance that might mean a lot, which but for her thought, her generosity, he would have missed.

Well, it was up to him not to miss it now! He'd been an idiot over these baubles once. He mustn't "fall down" over them again; and to let Marise guess how he'd bungled—how a girl she didn't appreciate yet had straightened matters out—would be to prove himself a priceless ass.

"Thank you for saying that," he quietly replied.

"I did tell you once before that I was sorry I'd thrown the jewel-cases on the floor. It was horrid of me. I felt afterwards I'd been most ill-bred," vouchsafed Marise.

"No. More like a bad-tempered child," said Garth.

"You weren't nice to me when I tried to apologise," the girl went on.

"Were you trying to apologise? Sorry! I didn't understand."

"What did you think I was trying to do?"

"Did you ever see a small boy take a stick, and stir up some beast in its cage at a Zoo? If you did, you'll know."

Marise laughed. "What sort of a beast?"

"Any sort with a sore head."

"Well—to change the subject," she said rather hastily, "let's talk not about beasts, but about jewels. I've apologised. And now officially I put these valuable things into your hands."

"I'd rather leave them in yours," said Garth.

"But—I told you before I really couldn't keep them—in the circumstances."

"Haven't the circumstances changed—just a little?"

"I—don't quite see how you mean."

"Don't you? In that case, I suppose they haven't. Won't you change, then—enough to keep the things, as I've no use for them?"

"I'm afraid I can't. You may have a use for them some day, you know."

"What use? I don't seem to see Mothereen in pearls and laurel wreaths."

The picture called up made them both smile. "No, but you won't—won't be bound to me for ever," Marise explained, her cheeks growing pink. "There'll be some other girl; a girl that perhaps you haven't even met, yet——"

"Never on God's earth will there be a girl for me, that I haven't met."

Remembrance of a girl he had met darted through the mind of Marise. Zélie Marks! Was the same thought in his mind? she wondered.

"Who can tell about these things?" she murmured vaguely. "Anyhow, you must please take charge of your jewels now."

"But you said this morning you wouldn't like to hurt Mothereen's feelings."

"What have her feelings to do with the jewels?"

"Just this. She's been keeping them for the great day—the day of our coming. She knows they were my wedding present to you——"

"Then she knows that you were shockingly extravagant."

"Perhaps she doesn't think so. She's better acquainted with my circumstances than you are. Anyhow, she's looking forward to seeing you all dolled up in the things to-night, and it'll be a blow for her if you're not. She won't say a word to you. Only she's sure to ask me——"

"Oh, all right! I'll wear the lot!" snapped Marise. She spoke rather crossly, but Garth was not dashed. He was, indeed, happier than he had been since his wedding day. His dummy hand might have scored a success once or twice before during the strange fortnight they had passed together, yet a world apart. He wasn't certain. But he was certain of this: it was a small triumph. He had a "hunch" that, when the girl had once seen herself in the pearls, the pendant, and the wreath of emerald laurel leaves, she wouldn't be anxious to give them up.

"That's very good of you," he thanked her formally. "I'm obliged to you for Mothereen's sake as well as—but no matter for the rest. It's nothing to you, of course."

As he spoke, Garth walked to the door without waiting for a hint from Marise. "You'll want to go on dressing," he said, "so as to leave the place clear for me." Then, without another word, he went out and shut the door.

Marise stared at herself in the mirror. "You might have two noses—or none—for all the notice he took of your looks," she told her reflection.

History repeated itself that evening. The guests were all hero-worshippers, as th............