It occurred to Regina that the hussy's hands were of the kind that look best in gloves. Then a second thought came, one of blame and reproach to herself for even thinking of the hussy at such a moment when Alfred had generously been thinking only of her. "It is a beautiful ring, dear Alfred," she said, putting her hand under his arm and squeezing it very gratefully, "it is a beautiful ring and you are very good to me, and I'm not quite sure that I deserve it." She meant what she said. A curious idea had taken possession of her that while Alfred was so kind and generous to her she ought not to inquire or wish to inquire into his outer life; there might be fifty explanations, and while she was evidently first with him it was her duty to remain content. It was wonderful how that little present, which, after all, had not cost Alfred Whittaker very much, soothed Regina's suspicions and lulled them to sleep. And so, in perfect happiness and harmony, that month went by, and it was with genuine regret that they bade adieu to the town of many colors and turned their faces toward the duller tones of home. "We will come back again next year," said Regina, gazing sentimentally at the fast-receding shore, now looking most uninteresting. "Dear Dieppe, we have been so happy and had such a good time, we will come again next year." "I shouldn't be surprised," said Alfred Whittaker, in a tone of ludicrous jocosity, "I shouldn't be surprised, for my part, if Darby and Joan found themselves at Dieppe by themselves. Just you and I, you know, Queenie." "Wherever you are, Alfred," said she, leaning over the side of the ship and keeping her eyes carefully from observing the motion of the water, "wherever you are I am always perfectly happy and content." CHAPTER XXII REGINA ON THE WARPATH There is much more value in the many "cures" that we take nowadays than is at first apparent to the eye. One cannot take a cure for the renovation of any part of one's body without, at the same time, renovating part of one's mind.