point; so I tangled Dick and his love affairs into
the knot, while trying to put them out of my mind. I'm afraid they
didn't do my sermon much good. And beautiful as Miss Grant may be, I
won't dislocate my neck to look at her in a tram. I advise you not to do
so, either. Set our German friends a good example."

"Why is it the best of people always advise you not to do all the things
you want to do, and vice versa?" observed Rose, pleased with her success
in catching Mary's eye. They bowed to each other, smiling warmly. Vanno
took off his hat, and Rose thought him exactly what a prince ought to be
and generally is not.

"That's the wife of the English chaplain at Monte Carlo," Mary informed
Vanno, in a stage whisper, "She's an American. She called on me
yesterday; and only think, though she'd never seen me before, she said
she would like me to visit her."

"Did you accept?" Vanno asked.

Mary shook her head. "No. It would have hurt Lady Dauntrey's feelings,
perhaps. And besides, yesterday I--I thought of going away soon, to
Italy--to Florence. I was travelling to Florence when suddenly it
occurred to me to get off at Monte Carlo instead. Oh, how thankful I am
now! Think, if we had never met?"

"We should have met. I was following you from Marseilles, you know, and
watching to see where you got off. What can your people have been made
of, letting you run about alone--a girl like you?"

"Oh, but I have no people--who count. Only such a disagreeable aunt and
her daughter! I haven't written to them since I came here. I
telegraphed, and gave no address. I shall not write--until--until----"

"I know what you mean, though you won't say it. 'Until we are married.'
You need not, unless you like, for they must have been brutes of women
to have been disagreeable to you. But I wish you would stay with this
lady--the chaplain's wife. Or else with my sister-in-law. I shall go to
see her and Angelo to-morrow morning, and tell them about you. I'll ask
them to call at once, and then--I feel almost sure--Marie will invite
you to visit her. Would you accept? For that would be best of all. And
in any case we must be married from their house."

"Marie!" Mary echoed the name, her voice dwelling upon it caressingly.
"Marie! That was the name of my--not my best, but my second best friend
at school. We were three Maries. It will be good of your Marie to call
on me; but she is a bride, and it's still her honeymoon. Do you think,
if we--