direct Monte's life. She
was selfish--she had warned him of that. He was selfish--and had
warned her.

Yet, as she lay there in her bed, she felt that she was about to give
up something forever, and that Monte was about to give up something
forever. It is one thing not to want something, and another to make an
irrevocable decision never to have it. Also, it is one thing to fret
one's self into an unnecessary panic over a problem at night, and
another to handle it lightly in the balmy sunshine of a Parisian
springtime morning.

Monte had risen early and gone out and bought her violets again. When
she came in, he handed them to her, and she buried her face in their
dewy fragrance. It was good to have some one think of just such little
attentions. Then, too, his boyish enthusiasm swept her off her guard.
He was so eager and light-hearted this morning that she found herself
breaking into a laugh. She was still laughing when he brought back to
her last night's discussion.

"Well, have you decided to marry me?" he demanded.

She shook her head, her face still buried in the violets.

"What's worrying you about it?" he asked.

"You, Monte," she answered.

"I? Well, that isn't much. I looked up the time-tables, and we could
take the six-ten to-night if you were ready."

"I could n't possibly be ready," she replied decidedly.

"To-morrow, then?"

When he insisted upon being definite, the proposition sounded a great
deal more absurd than when he allowed it to be indefinite. She was
still hesitating when Marie appeared.

"A telephone for mademoiselle," she announced.

Monte heard her startled exclamation from the next room. He hurried to
the door. She saw him, and, placing her hand over the telephone,
turned excitedly.

"It's Teddy again," she trembled.

"Let me talk to him," he commanded.

"He says he does n't believe in our--our engagement."

"We're to be married to-morrow?" he asked quickly.

[Illustration: "We're to be married to-morrow?"]

"Oh!"

"It's the only way to get rid of him."

"Then--"

"To-morrow?"

Catching her breath, she nodded.

He took the receiver.

"This is Covington," he said. "Miss Stockton and I are to be married
to-morrow. Get that? . . . Well, keep hold of it, because the moment
I 'm her husband--"

Following an oath at the other end, Monte heard the click of the
receiver as it was snapped up.

"That settles it very nicely," he smiled.

CHAPT