Mademoiselle briefly related how Doolittle, coming from his interview with De Launay to hear her own plea for help, had laughed at her crazy idea, had said that it was impossible to aid her, and had finally, in exasperation at both of them, told her that the only way she could accomplish her designs was by the help of another fool like herself, and that De Launay was the only one he knew who could qualify for that description. He--De Launay--was reckless enough, gambler enough, ass enough, to do the thing necessary to aid her, but no one else was. "And what," said De Launay, "is this thing that one must do to help you?" It seemed evident that Doolittle, while he had told something, had not told all. She hesitated and finally blurted it out at once while De Launay saw the flush creep down under the mask to the cheeks and chin below it. "It is to marry me," she said. Then, observing his stupefaction and the return of doubt to his mind, she hurried on. "Not to marry me in seriousness," she said. "Merely a marriage of a temporary nature--one that the American courts will end as soon as the need is over. I must get to America, monsieur, and I cannot go alone. Nor can I get a passport and passage unaided. If one tries, one is told that the boats are jammed with returning troops and diplomats, and that it is out of the question to secure passage for months even though one would pay liberally for it. "But monsieur still has prestige--influence--in spite of that." Her nod indicated the stack of saucers. "He is still the general of France, and he is also an American. It is undoubtedly true that he will have no difficulty in securing passage, nor will it be denied him to take his wife with him. Therefore it is that I suggest the marriage to monsieur. It was Monsieur Doolittle that gave me the idea." De Launay was swept with a desire to laugh. "What on earth did he tell you?" he asked. "That the only way I could go was to go as the wife of an American soldier," said mademoiselle. "He added that he knew of none I could marry--unless, he said, I tried Monsieur de Launay. You, he informed me, had just told him that the only marriage you would consider would be one entered into in the spirit of the gambler. Now, that is the kind of marriage I have to offer." De Launay laughed, recalling his unfortunate words with the banker to the effect that the only reason he'd ever marry would be as a result of a bet. Mademoiselle's ascendency was vanishing rapidly. Her naïve assumption swept away the last vestiges of his awe. "Why do you wear that veil?" he asked abruptly. She raised her hand to it doubtfully. "Why?" she echoed. "If I am to marry you, is it to be sight unseen?" "It is merely because--it is because there is something that causes comment and makes it embarrassing to me. It is nothing--nothing repulsive, monsieur," she was pleading, now. "At least, I think not. But it makes the soldiers call me----" "Morgan _la fée_?"