The division of the party for the two sailings was tactfully arranged by Mrs. Dan DeMille. The Valentines chaperoned the "second table" as "Subway" Smith called those who were to take the later boat, and she herself looked after the first lot. Peggy Gray and Monty Brewster were in the DeMille party. The three days in England were marked by unparalleled extravagance on Monty's part. One of the local hotels was subsidized for a week, although the party only stayed for luncheon, and the Cecil in London was a gainer by several thousand dollars for the brief stop there. It was a careworn little band that took Monty's special train for Southampton and embarked two days later. The "rest cure" that followed was welcome to all of them and Brewster was especially glad that his race was almost run. Swiftly and steadily the liner cut down the leagues that separated her from New York. Fair weather and fair cheer marked her course, and the soft, balmy nights were like seasons of fairyland. Monty was cherishing in his heart the hope inspired by Peggy's action on the night of the storm. Somehow it brought a small ray of light to his clouded understanding and he found joy in keeping the flame alive religiously if somewhat doubtfully. His eyes followed her constantly, searching for the encouragement that the very blindness of love had hidden from him, forever tormenting himself with fears and hopes and fears again. Her happiness and vivacity puzzled him--he was often annoyed, he was now and then seriously mystified. Four days out from New York, then three days, then two days, and then Brewster began to feel the beginning of the final whirlwind in profligacy clouding him oppressively, ominously, unkindly. Down in his stateroom he drew new estimates, new calculations, and tried to balance the old ones so that they appeared in the light most favorable to his designs. Going over the statistics carefully, he estimated that the cruise, including the repairs and return of the yacht to New York, would cost him $210,000 in round figures. One hundred and thirty-three days marked the length of the voyage when reckoned by time and, as near as he could get at it, the expense had averaged $1,580 a day. According to the contract, he was to pay for the yacht, exclusive of the cuisine and personal service. And he had found it simple enough to spend the remaining $1,080. There were days, of course, when fully $5,000 disappeared, and there were others on which he spent much less than $1,000, but the average was secure. Taking everything into consideration, Brewster found that his fortune had dwindled to a few paltry thousands in addition to the proceeds which would come to him from the sale of his furniture. On the whole he was satisfied.