girl. One could not say to her
that it would be better to finish everything, he would never say that
to Marie-Louise--but if, _par example_, he and Marie-Louise had never
talked of the marriage there would be nothing now to trouble him.
And--he swung around sharply as a knock sounded on the door.

"Come!" he called.

Papa Fregeau stuck in his head.

"_Pardon_, Monsieur Jean"--it was "monsieur" now--"it is Mademoiselle
Bliss who is alone in the cafe below. Will Monsieur Jean see her for a
moment before he goes out?"

"In an instant," Jean answered quickly. "Tell mademoiselle that I will
be there in an instant."

Papa Fregeau hesitated, stared about the room, and stared at Jean, his
fat cheeks grotesquely expanded--and his arms rose suddenly in a
gesture of profound helplessness.

"_Mon Dieu_!" he muttered heavily. "Is it possible that it is our
little Jean there--ah, _pardon_"--he stammered--"_Monsieur_ Jean"--and
made a hasty exit from the room, as though utterly confounded at his
own temerity.

But Jean, following his reply, had paid no further attention to Papa
Fregeau. He had learned to knot the long, flowing tie that Myrna had
chosen as part of his dress, for she had said, had she not, that it was
the tie the artists wore in Paris? He knotted it now with extra care,
put on his coat, snatched up his hat, and ran downstairs to the cafe
below.

She was waiting for him back by the little _comptoir_ where he had
stood that evening when she had first spoken to him. She had been like
a glorious vision that had burst suddenly upon him that evening--she
was a thousand times more glorious now, for her smile was eager with an
intimacy that promised--what did it promise? He did not know. It was
there--and her eyes were shining, and the white throat was divinely
beautiful--and the thrill of her presence quickened the beat of his
heart.

Her laugh rang through the room, silver-toned.

"Jean," she cried merrily, "you are harder to see these days than a
prime minister! What do you mean, sir? Have you deserted us?"

"_Ma foi_!" protested Jean, a little anxiously. "Mademoiselle does not
mean that! Was I not at lunch with her to-day, and yesterday, and the
day before that?"

"Yes, and all day at the work, and every evening in Marseilles"--she
manufactured a dainty pout through her smile. "And even now that I
have snatched a little moment, I must not keep you for they are waiting
for you outside."

"Le