th good luck on your side and you may be happy all
your life in spite of to-night's depression."

"I'm sure to be happy," said Brewster, simply. "The ceremony takes
place at seven o'clock, gentlemen. I was coming to your office at nine
on a little matter of business, but I fancy it won't after all be
necessary for me to hurry. I'll drop in before noon, however, and get
that money. By the way, here are the receipts for the money I spent
to-night. Will you put them away with the others? I intend to live up
to my part of the contract, and it will save me the trouble of
presenting them regularly in the morning. Good night, gentlemen. I am
sorry you were obliged to stay up so late on my account."

He left them bravely enough, but he had more than one moment of
weakness before he could meet his friends. The world seemed unreal and
himself the most unreal thing in it. But the night air acted as a
stimulant and helped him to call back his courage. When he entered the
studio at one o'clock, he was prepared to redeem his promise to be "the
jolliest fellow of them all."

CHAPTER XXXIV

THE LAST WORD

"I'll tell you about it later, dear," was all that Peggy, pleading,
could draw from him.

At midnight Mrs. Dan had remonstrated with her. "You must go home,
Peggy, dear," she said. "It is disgraceful for you to stay up so late.
I went to bed at eight o'clock the night before I was married."

"And fell asleep at four in the morning," smiled Peggy.

"You are quite mistaken, my dear. I did not fall asleep at all. But I
won't allow you to stop a minute longer. It puts rings under the eyes
and sometimes they're red the morning after."

"Oh, you dear, sweet philosopher," cried Peggy; "how wise you are. Do
you think I need a beauty sleep?"

"I don't want you to be a sleepy beauty, that's all," retorted Mrs. Dan.

Upon Monty's return from his trying hour with the lawyers, he had been
besieged with questions, but he was cleverly evasive. Peggy alone was
insistent; she had curbed her curiosity until they were on the way
home, and then she implored him to tell her what had happened. The
misery he had endured was as nothing to his reckoning with the woman
who had the right to expect fair treatment. His duty was clear, but the
strain had been heavy and it was not easy to meet it.

"Peggy, something terrible has happened," he faltered, uncertain of his
course.

"Tell me everything, Monty, you can trust me to be brave."

"W