pped into a little store.

"Monsieur," she said to the man who served her with her envelope and
stamp, "monsieur, will you be kind enough to tell me the way to the
railway station?"

"To which one, mademoiselle?" he inquired politely. "The _Gare de
l'Est, the Gare du Nord, the Gare St. Lazare_, the--"

She had not thought that there might be more than one, but one would
take her away equally as well as another--it made no difference. Only
he would think it very strange that she did not know which one she
wanted.

"The _Gare St. Lazare_, if you please, monsieur," she ventured
quickly--and thanked him when he had told her, and went out on the
street again.

--IX--

MYRNA'S STRATEGY

"Two months--three months in America! And to be married there!"
ejaculated Henry Bliss, as he stared at his daughter in utter
bewilderment.

Myrna, from the depths of her father's favourite lounging chair, which
she had appropriated on entering the library after dinner that evening,
nodded her head in a quite matter-of-fact way.

"Isn't this rather--rather sudden?" inquired Henry Bliss, mustering a
facetious irony to his rescue.

"Oh, no!" said Myrna demurely. "I decided upon it almost a week ago."

"Oh, you did!"--a wry smile flickered on her father's lips. "A week
ago, eh? And what does Jean say?"

"Jean doesn't say anything," replied Myrna complacently. "He doesn't
know anything about it--it wasn't necessary until the time came. I
haven't said anything to any one--until now."

"Well, upon my soul!" exclaimed her father. "You are beginning early
with your future husband, Myrna! So then, we are both to be twisted
around your finger--eh? I shall have to speak to Jean--warn him. For
myself, of course, it's quite hopeless, I've given it up years ago; but
as for Jean, that's quite another matter--it's all in starting right,
with a firm hand, you know!" His eyes twinkled. "I'll have a little
confidential talk with Jean."

"Don't be ridiculous, father!" she laughed. She rose from her chair.
"Well, that's settled; and now I--"

"Eh--what? Settled! Nothing is settled! What's settled?" he
spluttered anxiously.

"That we are going to America, of course," said Myrna sweetly. "You,
and Jean, and I."

"Now, see here, Myrna," protested her father, with what he meant for
severity, "a trip to America is all very well, but it isn't the sort of
thing one decides on the spur of the moment."

"Of course it isn't