I do get it back--why, that'll be simply good
luck; and I've never found it profitable yet to court Fortune with a
doleful mouth."

"You certainly practise your theory," he said. "I swear I believe I'm
more concerned about your loss than you are."

"Certainly you are, you silly boy. For my part, I feel quite confident
the necklace will be returned."

He stared. "Why?"

She opened her hands expressively. "I've always been lucky.... Besides,
if I never see it again, it'll come back to me this way or that--in
advertising, for one."

"Isn't that dodge pretty well worked out with the newspapers? It seems
to me that it has come to that, of late; or else the prime donne have
taken to guarding their valuables with greater care."

"Oh, that makes no difference. With another woman it might, but I"--she
shrugged--"I'm Alison Landis, if you please. The papers won't neglect
_me_. Besides, Max can do much as he likes with them."

"Have you--?"

"Of course--by wireless, first thing this morning."

"But you promised--"

"Don't be tiresome, Staff. I bought this necklace on Max's suggestion,
as an advertisement--I meant to wear it in _A Single Woman_; that alone
would help make our play a go. Since I can't get my advertising and have
my necklace, too, why, in goodness' name, mayn't I get what I can out of
it?"

"Oh, well ..."

Staff abandoned argument and resting his forearms on the rail, stared
sombrely out over the darkling waters for a moment or two.

This was at night, during an intermission in a dance on deck which had
been arranged by special permission of the weather--the latter holding
very calm and warm. Between halves Staff had succeeded in disentangling
Alison from a circle of admirers and had marched her up to the
boat-deck, where there was less light--aside from that furnished by an
obliging moon--and more solitude.

Under any other circumstances Staff would have been enchanted with the
situation. They were quite alone, if not unobserved; and there was magic
in the night, mystery and romance in the moonlight, the inky shadows,
the sense of swift movement through space illimitable. Alison stood
with back to the rail so near him that his elbow almost touched the
artificial orchid that adorned her corsage. He was acutely sensitive of
her presence, of the faint persistent odour of her individual perfume,
of the beauty and grace of her strong, free-limbed body in its
impeccable Paquin gown, of the sheen of her