nfused, and that always steadied her.

Then she was whirled back to the hotel and to Marie, with no more time
than was necessary to dress for dinner. She was glad there was no more
time. For at least to-day there must be no unfilled intervals. She
felt refreshed after her bath, and, to Marie's delight, consented to
attire herself in one of her newest evening gowns, a costume of silk
and lace that revealed her neck and arms. Also she allowed Marie to do
her hair as she pleased. That was a good sign, but Marie thought
madame's cheeks did not look like a good sign.

"I hope madame--"

"Have you so soon forgotten what I asked of you?" Marjory interrupted.

"I hope mademoiselle," Marie corrected herself, "has not caught a
fever."

"I should hope not," exclaimed Marjory. "What put that into your head?"

"Mademoiselle's cheeks are very hot."

Marjory brought her hand to her face. It did not feel hot, because her
hands were equally hot.

"It is nothing but the excitement that brings the color," she informed
Marie. "I have been living almost like a nun; and now--to get out all
at once takes away one's breath.

"Also being a bride."

"Marie!"

"Eh bien, madame--mademoiselle was married only this morning."

"You do not seem to understand," Marjory explained; "but it is
necessary that you should understand. Monsieur Covington is to me only
like--like a big brother. It is in order that he might be with me as a
big brother we went through the ceremony. People about here talk a
great deal, and I have taken his name to prevent that. That is all.
And you are to remain with me and everything is to go on exactly as
before, he in his apartments and we in ours. You understand now?"

At least, Marie heard.

"It is rather an amusing situation, is it not?" demanded Marjory.

"I--I do not know," replied Marie.

"Then in time you shall see. In the mean while, you might smile. Why
do you not smile?"

"I--I do not know," Marie replied honestly.

"You must learn how. It is necessary. It is necessary even to laugh.
Monsieur Covington laughed a great deal this afternoon."

"He--he is a man," observed Marie, as if that were some explanation.

"Eh bien--is it men alone who have the privilege of laughing?"

"I do not know," answered Marie; "but I have noticed that men laugh a
great deal more about some things than women."

"Then that is because women are fools," affirmed Marjory petulantly.

Though Marie was