Sir Jim to witness a will of sorts this very night. I shall sleep
better if it's done. But--there's a funny thing, Lady Courtenaye: a whim
of Rosemary's. I can't see light on it myself. Perhaps you could lead up
to the subject, and get her to explain."

"What is the funny thing?" I asked.

"Why, at first she implored me not to leave money to her--actually
begged, with tears in her eyes. However, I explained that if she didn't
get what I have, a stranger would, which would make me unhappy. My being
'unhappy' settled the matter for her! But she made a queer condition. If
she allowed me to leave everything to her, the legacy must be arranged
somehow without altering it to her married name when she is my wife. It
must be in favour of 'Rosemary Brandreth,' not 'Rosemary Murray.' I
begged her to tell my why she wanted such an odd thing, and she said it
was a prejudice she had about women changing their names and taking
their husbands' names. Well, as a matter of fact, I believe a woman
marrying _can_ keep her own name legally if she likes. Taking the
husband's name is a custom, not a necessity for a woman, I remember
hearing. But I'm not sure. Sir Jim may know. If not, he'll find out for
me. I haven't much strength, and it would be the greatest favour if he
would get some first-rate legal opinion about carrying out this wish of
Rosemary's."

"Jim will be glad to do anything he can," I said, warmly. "We shall be
neighbours, you know."

"Yes, thank Heaven!" he exclaimed. "I used not to think much about such
things, but I do feel as if you two had been sent me in my need, by
Providence. There was the wonderful coincidence of Rosemary being on my
ship--at least, one _calls_ it a coincidence, but it must be something
deeper and more mysterious than that. Then, finding such friends as you
and Sir Jim--neighbours on deck, and neighbours on shore. I can't tell
you the comfort it is to know that Rosemary won't be left alone when I'm
gone."

"Count on us," I repeated, "now and always."

"I do," Murray answered. "As for the present, my first will in favour of
Rosemary Brandreth will be clear sailing. It is the second one--or the
codicil--after marriage, that raises a question. I suppose I needn't
worry about that till the time comes: yet I do. I want to be sure that
Rosemary is safe. I wish you could persuade her not to stick to the
point she's so keen on."

"If you can't persuade her, it's not likely that I can," I objected. I