He was still more startled when Mr. Baumann, cruising along the aisle, bent over to murmur: "Can I fix you a nice divorce?" Dr. Temple rose in such an attitude of horror as he assumed in the pulpit when denouncing the greatest curse of society, and Mr. Baumann retired. As he passed Mallory he cast an appreciative glance at Marjorie and, tapping Mallory's shoulder, whispered: "No vonder you want a marriage license. I'll be in the next car, should you neet me." Then he went on his route. Marjorie stared after him in wonder and asked: "What did that person mean by what he said?" "It's all right, Marjorie," Mallory explained, in the highest cheer: "We can get married right away." Marjorie declined to get her hopes up again: "You're always saying that." "But here's the license--see?" "What good is that?" she said, "there's no preacher on board." "But that man is a justice of the peace and he'll marry us." Marjorie stared at him incredulously: "That creature!--before all these passengers?" "Not at all," Mallory explained. "We'll go into the smoking room." Marjorie leaped to her feet, aghast: "Elope two thousand miles to be married in a smoking room by a Yiddish drummer! Harry Mallory, you're crazy." Put just that way, the proposition did not look so alluring as at first. He sank back with a sigh: "I guess I am. I resign." He was as weary of being "foiled again" as the villain of a cheap melodrama. The two lovers sat in a twilight of deep melancholy, till Marjorie's mind dug up a new source of alarm: "Harry, I've just thought of something terrible." "Let's have it," he sighed, drearily. "We reach San Francisco at midnight and you sail at daybreak. What becomes of me?" Mallory had no answer to this problem, except a grim: "I'll not desert you." "But we'll have no time to get married." "Then," he declared with iron resolve, "then I'll resign from the Army." Marjorie stared at him with awe. He was so wonderful, so heroic. "But what will the country do without you?" "It will have to get along the best it can," he answered with finality. "Do you think I'd give you up?" But this was too much to ask. In the presence of a ruined career and a hero-less army, Marjorie felt that her own scruples were too petty to count. She could be heroic, too. "No!" she said, in a deep, low tone, "No, we'll get married in the smoking room. Go call your drummer!" This opened the clouds and let in the sun again with such a radiant blaze that Mallory hesitated no longer. "Fine!" he cried, and leaped to his feet, only to be detained again by Marjorie's clutch: "But first, what about that bracelet?" "She's got it," Mallory groaned, slumping from the heights again. "Do you mean to say she's still wearing it?" "How was I to get it?" "Couldn't you have slipped into her car last night and stolen it?" "Good Lord, I shouldn't think you'd want me to go--why, Marjorie--I'd be arrested!"