by no means convinced, she was ready to drop the
matter in her admiration of the picture her mistress made when properly
gowned. Whether she wished or not, madame, when she was done with her
this evening, looked as a bride should look. And monsieur, waiting
below, was worthy of her.

In his evening clothes he looked at least a foot taller than usual.
Marie saw his eyes warm as he slipped over madame's beautiful white
shoulders her evening wrap.

[Illustration: Monsieur's eyes warmed as he slipped the wrap over
madame's shoulders]

Before madame left she turned and whispered in Marie's ear.

"I may be late," she said; "but you will be here when I return."

"Yes, mademoiselle."

"Without fail?"

"Yes, mademoiselle."

Marie watched monsieur take his bride's arm as they went out the door,
and the thing she whispered to herself had nothing to do with madame at
all.

"Poor monsieur!" she said.

CHAPTER X

THE AFFAIR AT MAXIM'S

It was all new to Marjory. In the year and a half she had lived in
Paris with her aunt she had dined mostly in her room. Such cafes as
this she had seen only occasionally from a cab on her way to the opera.
As she stood at the entrance to the big room, which sparkled like a
diamond beneath a light, she was as dazed as a debutante entering her
first ballroom. The head waiter, after one glance at Monte, was bent
upon securing the best available table. Here was an American prince,
if ever he had seen one.

Had monsieur any choice?

Decidedly. He desired a quiet table in a corner, not too near the
music.

Such a table was immediately secured, and as Covington crossed the room
with Marjory by his side he was conscious of being more observed than
ever he had been when entering the Riche alone. His bandaged arm lent
him a touch of distinction, to be sure; but this served only to turn
eyes back again to Marjory, as if seeking in her the cause for it. She
moved like a princess, with her head well up and her dark eyes
brilliant.

"All eyes are upon you," he smiled, when he had given his order.

"If they are it's very absurd," she returned.

Also, if they were, it did not matter. That was the fact she most
appreciated. Ever since she had been old enough to observe that men
had eyes, it had been her duty to avoid those eyes. That had been
especially true in Paris, and still more especially true in the few
weeks she had been there alone.

Now, with Monte opposite her,