“Ah, that’s what I say,” Lady Wrench agreed with sudden sympathy. “You might cut yourself in pieces for a man, and his dirty lawyers would come and take your child away from you the next day, and haggle over every cent of alimony. But if it comes to money, I’ll spend as much as anybody—” “Oh, shut up, Zinnia,” her husband softly intervened, and redisposed himself to rest. “I don’t think you ought any of you to look at the matter from a legal stand-point,” Boyne interrupted. “My friends here are awfully fond of their children, and we all know they want what’s best for them. The only question is how that best is to be arrived at. It seems to me perfectly simple—” (“Solomon,” said the Duke, with his dry smile.) “No. Exactly the reverse. Division is what I’m here to fight against—no; not fight but plead.” Boyne turned to Cliffe Wheater. “For God’s sake, old man, let the lot of them stay together.” “Why, they _were_ together; they would have been, as long as they’d stayed with me,” Wheater grumbled helplessly. His wife reared her golden crest with a toss of defiance. “You don’t suppose for a minute I’m going to abandon my children to the kind of future Cliffe Wheater’s likely to provide for them? Gerald and I are prepared—” “So are Cliffe and I,” murmured Mrs. Lullmer, with a glance at the Duke under her studied lashes. The Duke threw back his head, and became lost in an inspection of the roof of the tent. “Cliffe and I,” repeated Mrs. Lullmer, more incisively. “Well, and what about me and Wrenny, I’d like to know?” Lady Wrench broke in. “I guess I can afford the best lawyers in the country—” “I don’t see that the law concerns these children,” Boyne intervened. “What they need is not to be fought over, but just to be left alone. Judith and Terry understand that perfectly. They know there is probably going to be another change in their parents’ lives, but they want to remain together, and not be affected by that change. I’m not here to theorise or criticise—I’m simply here as the children’s spokesman. They’re devoted to each other, and they want to stay together. Between you all, can’t it be managed somehow—for a time, at any rate?” “But my Pixie would be such a perfect little companion for Terry and Blanca. She knows all the very nicest children everywhere. That’s one of the great advantages of hotel life, isn’t it? And, after all, Judith may be marrying soon, and then what will become of the others?” Mrs. Lullmer turned a meaning smile on Boyne. “Haven’t _you_ perhaps thought of Judith’s marrying soon, Mr. Boyne?” Boyne curtly replied that he hadn’t; and Lady Wrench intervened: “I want my Zinnie to have a lovely simple home life, out on our ranch in California. This kicking about in hotels is too horribly demoralising for children.” She bent her great eyes gently on Mrs. Lullmer. “You know something about that, Mrs. Lullmer.” Mrs. Lullmer returned a look as gentle. “Oh, no; my children were never on a ranch at Hollywood,” she said.