Just then the porter came through with Wally's wire. It read: "Sorry. She's a devil. Take her to New York. Wiring head mistress of school to meet her there. Wally." The extreme concern in Jerry's face prompted Isabelle to read over his shoulder. Then she laughed gaily and defiantly. Jerry controlled himself, put the telegram into his pocket, and rose. "Will you come to luncheon with me, Miss Bryce?" She glanced at him speculatively. "Delighted, Mr. Paxton." For the rest of the journey, Jerry treated his companion with the most careful consideration. She tried in every way to break down this wall of formality. She sparkled at him, she teased him, she raged at him, she wept, but in vain. "Jerry, _please_ don't treat me like a lady," she begged. "You've done nothing to deserve such treatment." "You used to be so nice to me on the yacht." "Because you behaved yourself like a kid, and knew your place." "Did you like my behaviour on the yacht?" in surprise. "No, but it was an improvement on this dime-novel, moving-picture heroine you're trying out now." "You're a fine movie villain, Jerry. You look as if you would pass me the poisoned bean." Silence. "Jerry, if you don't like any of my behaviours, why were you nice to me?" "Because I thought you were a lonely little girl with no one to play with." "I am that now, Jerry." "Whose fault is that?" "Yours." He laughed shortly. "You could play with me, very nicely, with no interruptions from the Wax Doll, if you'd only thaw. Couldn't you thaw a tiny bit, Jerry?" He rose and departed to the smoking-room. When an hour had passed and he did not come back, she marched down the car and into the smoking compartment. "Jerry, I'm going to sit in here with you men. I'm lonesome. I've always wanted to sit in here; it looks so cozy and smells so smelly." The men laughed and rose to make room for her, but Jerry took her by the arm and piloted her swiftly forth. "You'll have to smell it from afar," he said, and felt the grin of the men behind him. He was thoroughly irritated now. "Execute me, Jerry, but don't look like that." "Haven't you any instincts of breeding at all?" he inquired. "No nice girl does that sort of cheap, fresh thing. What do you suppose those men think of you? They do not consider you the least cute or clever, if that is what you intended them to think. Their main idea is that, if I am your guardian, I ought to lock you up until you learn some manners." "I wish you _were_ my guardian, Jerry." Jerry was actually worn out with annoyance, with weariness, with fury at Wally Bryce for not taking her off his hands. He looked toward his escape with anticipation, and he devoutly hoped that his farewell with Isabelle would be forever. They were due in New York at ten o'clock at night. As they sat, ready to disembark, Isabelle leaned toward him. "Jerry, do you hate me?" "Oh, no," casually. "Will you ever forgive me?" "You are quite forgiven."