"Yes," said Miss May, slowly. "And--Edgerly?" I thought she was awfully pressing, but I wanted to keep on good terms with her and I proceeded to account for his knowledge also. "Well, Miss Inquisitive, Edgerly's case was like this: He won a small sum of money from me at poker and was kind enough to offer to refund it, and take my check for the amount. Thinking I might want the ready money to buy you a paper of pins or something of that sort I accepted his proposal with thanks. Of course, he asked what right I had to sign the name of Donald Camran to the check, and of course, I told him of the agent's 'error' on the passenger list. There! Is there anything else you would like to know?" Saying this I took the hand nearest me in mine, to show that my bantering was entirely good natured, and was surprised to find it quite cold. "Marjorie!" I exclaimed. "You are ill!" She smiled faintly and admitted that she had a slight chill. I persuaded her to take a hot drink and went at once to prepare it. When I returned she had gone to her room and was bathing her face with cologne water. Her hair, which she had combed with care half an hour earlier, was much disarranged and her eyes were swollen. "Come in and sit down," she said. Then, as I hesitated, she added, "Oh, you can leave the door open." The door was a frame affair covered with mosquito bar, there being nothing more seclusive in the house. Cold weather never reaches St. Thomas at any time of year. I explained to her that to leave the door open was to invite the intrusion of insects. "I am going to lie down," she replied. "My head aches." She drank part of the liquid I had brought. "We can't be prudish," she said, then. "The door is practically open at all times, for it is free to admit light and sound. Are you afraid to be alone with me? Perhaps you had best send for one of the servants to guard you." "Or Laps?" I suggested, laughing. I entered and took a chair, while she arranged herself upon the bed, with pillows to prop her up into a half-sitting posture. "Don," she began. "You will let me call you Don?" "You can call me what you please," I said. "Don or anything else that begins with D. 'Dear' or 'Darling,' if that suits you better." I could not make her smile. "Are you very, very sorry you took me with you?" she asked, earnestly. "Not very, very." "But--you wish you hadn't?" I shook my head decidedly. "Of what use am I to you?" she asked. "Women were never made to be of use," I answered. "They are like bouquets, meant to fill the atmosphere with beauty and fragrance." "And--do I do that--for you?" I kissed the fingers she placed in mine. The smile came to her face at last. "I shall be ready to begin the typewriting to-morrow," she said. "I understand the machine now, I think, well enough." (She had practiced on it in her cabin on the Madiana, several days, for some hours.) "I shall be glad when I am doing a little to earn the salary you pay me."