In response to her rather dramatic invitation, Dick turned his head, and did as he was requested. He looked at Bob, and in spite of his disturbed mind he found himself smiling. Bob Nelson, who made up the fourth in their little party, was a stout young fellow in the late twenties, whose sole ambition in life seemed to centre about a desire not to have rows; he sat on the sand a few paces away from them, and was earnestly practicing his favorite amusement, which consisted in fixing his eyes firmly upon nothing whatever, and allowing his mind to "stand without hitching," as he had once described it, a mental gymnastic only possible of achievement inside of a skull so constituted as to allow the brain an abundance of room. "Bob," continued Mrs. Harlan firmly, "is getting good and tired of the way things are going. We don't mind a little change now and then, but we do object to being politely requested to get out of every hotel between Palm Beach and Quebec. Bob! What is your opinion of the way Lola is going on?" Bob, evidently anxious to do the subject full justice, gave the matter at least a moment's calm thought before he replied. "I--er--yes----" He then, with considerable satisfaction, resumed his former amusement, only slightly troubled by the unusual mental effort. "There! You see!" exclaimed Mrs. Harlan. Although somewhat in doubt as to precisely what he was supposed to see, Dick was content to assume that it was not exactly a compliment to Lola. Lola had been making rows; there was no denying that. She was difficult to please, and absolutely indifferent to the rights of others. She was constantly getting them into disputes with the hotel clerks, the servants, or with the other guests, and on several occasions during their trip they had been politely informed that their rooms were needed for other purposes. All this had been fully as annoying to Dick as it had to either of the others, but during the six weeks they had been together, his love for her had grown into a great passion that made no account of her faults, although it could not blind him to them. "She's in a difficult position, Madge," he explained, anxious to smooth things over, for he knew that Lola would not travel about with him alone, and for the last few days he had seen that Mrs. Harlan was rapidly growing tired of her rôle of chaperone. "She's had to break off with her people, and she's new to this sort of thing. It will be all right as soon as that confounded divorce of mine is settled. Once we are married she'll settle down and have an easy mind." "All right," Mrs. Harlan sighed patiently. "I'm your friend, and I'll stick as long as I can, but I can't help saying this, Dick: you're the bravest man I ever knew. They make an awful fuss about 'Daniel in the Lions' Den' but he wasn't a marker to you!"