It was three years ago that her aunt had begun to travel with her, and
after that she had seen Monte not oftener than once or twice a year,
and then for scarcely more than a greeting and good-bye. On the other
hand, Mrs. Warren had always talked and written to her a great deal
about him. Chic and he had been roommates in college, and ever since
had kept in close touch with each other by letter. The trivial gossip
of Monte's life had always been passed on to Marjory, so that she had
really for these last few years been following his movements and
adventures month by month, until she felt in almost as intimate contact
with him as with the Warrens. She had reason to think that, in turn,
her movements were retailed to Monte. The design was obvious--and
amusing.

On the whole, Marjory concluded that it was not especially worth while
to burden him with her troubles; and yet, it was just because of that
she was inclined to continue--in, however, a less serious mood. Monte
had so few burdens of his own. That odd little smile--scarcely more
than the ghost of a smile--returned to the corners of her mouth.

"To-night," she said, "I ran away from Teddy Hamilton, for all the
world like a heroine of melodrama. Do you know Teddy?"

"Yes," he answered slowly, "I do."

He refrained with difficulty from voicing his opinion of the man, which
he could have put into three words--"the little beast." But how did it
happen that she, of all women, had been thrown into contact with this
pale-faced Don Juan of the New York music-halls and Paris cafes?

"I lent Marie, my maid, one of my new hats and a heavy veil," she went
on. "She came out and stepped into a taxi, with instructions to keep
driving in a circle of a mile. Teddy followed in another machine.
And"--she paused to look up and smile--"for all I know, he may still be
following her round and round. I came on to the opera."

"Kind of tough on Marie," he commented, with his blue eyes reflecting a
hearty relish of the situation.

"Marie will undoubtedly enjoy a nap," she said. "As for Teddy--well,
he is generally out of funds, so I hope he may get into difficulties
with the driver."

"He won't," declared Monte. "He'll probably end by borrowing a
_pour-boire_ of the driver."

She nodded.

"That is possible. He is very clever."

"The fact that he is still out of jail--" began Monte.

Then he checked himself. He was not a man to talk about other
men--even about