“That’s your way of thinking, isn’t it?” she said. “Teach it to me if you can. I wish you could. Good night.” She hesitated a second. “God _bless_ you!” she added quite suddenly, almost fantastic the words sounded to her, that she, Joan Fayre, should be calling down devout benisons on the head of T. Tembarom--T. Tembarom! * * * * * Her mother was in her room when she reached it. She had come up early to look over her possessions and Joan’s before she began her packing. The bed, the chairs, and the tables were spread with evening, morning, and walking-dresses, and the millinery collected from their combined wardrobes. She was examining anxiously a laces-appliquéd-and-embroidered white coat, and turned a slightly flushed face toward the opening door. “I am going over your things as well as my own,” she said. “I shall take what I can use. You will require nothing in London. What is the matter?” she said sharply, as she saw her daughter’s face. Joan came forward, feeling it a strange thing that she was not in the mood to fight--to lash out and be glad to do it. “Captain Palliser told me as I came up that Mr. Temple Barholm had been talking to you,” her mother went on. “He heard you having some sort of scene as he passed the door. As you have made your decision, of course I know I needn’t hope that anything has happened.” “What has happened has nothing to do with my decision. He wasn’t waiting for that,” Joan answered her. “We were both entirely mistaken, Mother.” “What are you talking about?” cried Lady Mallowe. “What do you mean by mistaken?” “He doesn’t want me; he never did,” Joan answered again. A shadow of a smile hovered over her face, and there was no derision in it, only a warming recollection of his earnestness when he had said the words she quoted, “He is what they call in New York ’dead stuck on another girl.’” Lady Mallowe sat down on the chair that held the white coat, and she did not push the coat aside. “He told you that in his vulgar slang!” she gasped out. “You--you ought to have struck him _dead_ with your answer.” “Except poor Jem Temple Barholm,” was the amazing reply she received, “he is the only _friend_ I ever had in all my life.” CHAPTER XXXIII It was business of serious importance which was to bring Captain Palliser’s visit to a close. He explained it perfectly to Miss Alicia a day or so after Lady Mallowe and her daughter left them. He had lately been most amiable in his manner toward Miss Alicia, and had given her much valuable information about companies and stocks. He rather unexpectedly found it imperative that he should go to London and Berlin to “see people,” dealers in great financial schemes who were deeply interested in solid business speculations such as his own.