"Certainly. Have I ever made love to you?" "No." "Ever even kissed you?" "No." "Ever been a brute?" "No.... You are not very careful in speaking to me sometimes. Once--at the Club--when Mr. Hamil--" "I _was_ brutal. I know it. Do you want my respect?" "Y-es." "Earn it," he said drily. The girl leaned back in her corner, flushed, silent, thoughtful; and sometimes her eyes were fixed on vacancy, sometimes on him where he sat in the opposite seat staring out into the blurred darkness at the red eye of the beacon on Jupiter Light which turned flaring, turned again, dwindling to a spark, and went out. "Of what are you thinking?" she asked, noticing his frown. He did not reply; he was thinking of Shiela Cardross. And, frowning, he picked up the kitten, very gently, and flattered it until it purred. "It's about as big as a minute," said the girl, softly touching the tiny head. "There _are_ minutes as big as elephants, too," he said, amused. "Nice pussy!" The kitten, concurring in these sentiments, purred with pleasure. A little later he sauntered back to his own compartment, and, taking out a memorandum, made some figures. "Is that girl aboard?" asked Portlaw, looking up from the table, his fat hands full of cards. "Yes, I believe so." "Well, that's a deuce of a thing to do." "What?"--absently. "What! Why, to travel about the country with the nucleus of a theatrical troupe on your hands--" "She wanted another chance. Few get it." "Very well, son, if you think you can afford to endow a home for the frivolously erring!--And the chances are she'll turn on you and scratch." "Yes--the chances favour that." "She won't understand it; that sort never understands decency in a man." "Do you think it might damage my reputation to be misunderstood?" sneered Malcourt. "I've taken a notion to give her a chance and I'm going to do it." Portlaw spread out his first row of cards. "You know what everybody will think, I suppose." Malcourt yawned. Presently Portlaw began in a babyish-irritated voice: "I've buried the deuce and trey of diamonds, and blocked myself--" "Oh, _shut_ up!" said Malcourt, who was hastily scribbling a letter to Virginia Suydam. He did not post it, however, until he reached New York, being very forgetful and busy in taking money away from the exasperated Portlaw through the medium of double dummy. Also he had a girl, a kitten, and other details to look after, and several matters to think over. So Virginia's letter waited. * * * * * Virginia waited, too. She had several headaches to keep inquiring friends at a distance, for her eyes were inclined to redness in those days, and she developed a pronounced taste for the solitude of the chapel and churchly things. So when at length the letter arrived, Miss Suydam evaded Constance and made for the beach; for it was her natural instinct to be alone with Malcourt, and the instinct unconsciously included even his memory.