"Can't you understand? From some things you've said I have thought--perhaps--you didn't just approve of my--marriage. And now I see I misconstrued you--utterly. You want me to marry Harrowby. You're working for it. I shouldn't be surprised if you were on that train last Monday just to make sure that--I'd--get here--safely." Really, it was inhuman. Did she realize how inhuman it was? One glance at Minot might have told her. But she was still looking away. "So I want to thank you, Mr. Minot," she went on. "I shall always remember your--kindness. I couldn't understand at first, but now--I wonder? You know, it's an old theory that as soon as one has one's own affair of the heart arranged, one begins to plan for others?" Minot made a little whistling sound through his clenched teeth. The girl stood up. "Your thoughtfulness has made me very happy," she laughed. "It shows that perhaps you care for me--just a little--too." She was gone! Minot sat swearing softly to himself, banging the arm of his chair with his fist. He raged at Thacker, Jephson, the solar system. Gradually his anger cooled. Underneath the raillery in Cynthia Meyrick's tone he had thought he detected something of a serious note--as though she were a little wistful--a little hurt. Did she care? Bitter-sweet thought! In the midst of all this farce and melodrama, had she come to care?--just a little?-- Just a little! Bah! Minot rose and went out on the avenue. Prince Navin Bey Imno was accustomed to give lectures twice daily on the textures of his precious rugs, at his shop in the Alameda courtyard. His afternoon lecture was just finished as Mr. Minot stepped into the shop. A dozen awed housewives from the Middle West were hurrying away to write home on the hotel stationery that they had met a prince. When the last one had gone out Minot stepped forward. "Prince--I've dropped in to warn you. A very angry woman will be here shortly to see you." The handsome young Persian shrugged his shoulders, and took off the jacket of the native uniform with which he embellished his talks. "Why is she angry? All my rugs--they are what I say they are. In this town are many liars selling oriental rugs. Oriental! Ugh! In New Jersey they were made. But not my rugs. See! Only in my native country, where I was a prince of the--" "Yes, yes. But this lady is not coming about rugs. I refer to your ex-wife." "Ah. You are mistaken. I have never married." "Oh, yes, you have. I know all about it. There's no need to lie. The whole story is out, and the lady's game in San Marco is queered. She thinks you told. That's why she'll be here for a chat." "But I did not tell. Only this morning did I see her first. I could not tell--so soon. Who could I tell--so soon?" "I know you didn't tell. But can you prove it to an agitated lady? No. You'd better close up for the evening."