"Sixty-four Boulevard Saint-Germain--and hurry."

Leaving Paris? She had no right to do that. Edhart never left. That
was the beauty of Edhart--that he remained stationary, so that he could
always be found. He was quite sure that Edhart was too considerate
even to die, could he have avoided it. Now Marjory was proposing to go
and leave him here alone. He could not allow that. It was too early
to quit Paris, anyway. It was only the first day of spring!

She came down into the gloomy _pension_ reception-room looking as if
she had already begun to assist Marie with the packing. Her hair had
become loosened, and escaped in several places in black curls that gave
her a distinctly girlish appearance. There was more color, too, in her
cheeks; but it was the flush of excitement rather than the honest red
that colored his own cheeks. She looked tired and discouraged. She
sank into a chair.

"It was good of you to come, Monte," she said. "But I don't know why I
should bother you with my affairs. Only--he was so disagreeable. He
frightened me, for a moment."

"What did he do?" demanded Monte.

"He came here early, and when Marie told him I was out he said he would
wait until I came back. So he sat down--right here. Then, every five
minutes, he called Madame Courcy and sent her up with a note. I was
afraid of a scene, because madame spoke of sending for the gendarmes."

"Why didn't you let her?"

"That would have made still more of a scene."

She was speaking in a weary, emotionless voice, like one who is very
tired.

"So I came down and saw him," she said. "He was very melodramatic."

It seemed difficult for her to go on.

"Absinthe?" he questioned.

"I don't know. He wanted me to marry him at once. He drew a revolver
and threatened to shoot himself--threatened to shoot me."

Monte clenched his fists.

"Good Lord!" he said softly. "That is going a bit far."

"Is it so men act--when they are in love?" she asked.

Monte started.

"I don't know. If it is, then they ought to be put in jail."

"If it is, it is most unpleasant," she said; "and I can't stand it,
Monte. There is no reason why I should, is there?"

"No: if you can avoid it."

"That's the trouble," she frowned. "I've been quite frank with him. I
told him that I did not want to marry him. I've told him that I could
not conceive of any possible circumstances under which I would marry
him. I've told him that in French and