in
the course of an acquaintance that had lasted more than a year. He put
the question almost humbly.

'I don't know,' Margaret answered, relenting a little in spite of
herself. 'At all events I'm sorry I was so rude. I lost my temper.'

'It was very natural,' said Mr. Van Torp meekly, but not looking at
her, 'and I know I deserved it. You really would let me give you the
book now, if it were possible, wouldn't you?'

'Perhaps.' She thought that as there was no such possibility it was
safe to say as much as that.

'I should feel so much better if you would,' he answered. 'I should
feel as if you'd accepted my apology. Won't you say it, Madame
Cordova?'

'Well--yes--since you wish it so much,' Margaret replied, feeling that
she risked nothing.

'Here it is, then,' he said, to her amazement, producing the new novel
from the pocket of his overcoat, and enjoying her surprise as he put
it into her hand.

It looked like a trick of sleight of hand, and she took the book and
stared at him, as a child stares at the conjuror who produces an apple
out of its ear.

'But I saw you throw it away,' she said in a puzzled tone.

'I got two while I was about it,' said Mr. Van Torp, smiling without
showing his teeth. 'It was just as easy and it didn't cost me any
more.'

'I see! Thank you very much.'

She knew that she could not but keep the volume now, and in her heart
she was glad to have it, for Lushington had written to her about it
several times since she had been in America.

'Well, I'll leave you now,' said the millionaire, resuming his stony
expression. 'I hope I've not kept you too long.'

Before Margaret had realised the idiotic conventionality of the last
words her companion had disappeared and she was left alone. He had not
gone back in the direction whence they had come, but had taken the
deserted windward side of the ship, doubtless with the intention of
avoiding the crowd.

Margaret stood still for some time in the lee of the ventilator,
holding the novel in her hand and thinking. She wondered whether Mr.
Van Torp had planned the whole scene, including the sacrifice of the
novel. If he had not, it was certainly strange that he should have had
the second copy ready in his pocket. Lushington had once told her that
great politicians and great financiers were always great comedians,
and now that she remembered the saying it occurred to her that Mr. Van
Torp reminded her of a certain type of American actor, a