"'He was really nice,' she continues. 'I had to keep lecturing myself, or I'd have been sorry for him. He told me it was his love for me that had shown him what a wretch he had been. He said he knew I didn't care for him two straws--and there I didn't contradict him--and that he respected me all the more for it. I can't explain to you how he worked it out, but what he meant was that I was so good myself that no one but a thoroughly good fellow could possibly have any chance with me, and that any other sort of fellow ought to be ashamed of himself for daring even to be in love with me, and that he couldn't rest until he had proved to himself that he was worthy to have loved me, and then he wasn't going to love me any more.' "'It's a bit complicated,' says I. 'I suppose you understood it?' "'It was perfectly plain,' says she, somewhat shortly, 'and, as I told him, made me really like him for the first time.' "'It didn't occur to him to ask you why you had been flirting like a volcano with a chap you didn't like,' says I. "'He didn't refer to it as flirtation,' says she. 'He regarded it as kindness to a lonely man in a strange land.' "'I think you'll be all right,' says I. 'There's all the makings of a good husband in him--seems to be simple-minded enough, anyhow.' "'He has a very lovable personality when you once know him,' says she. 'All sailors are apt to be thoughtless.' "'I should try and break him of it later on,' says I. "'Besides, she was a bit of a fool herself, going away and leaving no address,' adds she; and having reached her turning, we said good-night to one another. "About a month passed after that without anything happening. For the first week Marie was as merry as a kitten, but as the days went by, and no sign came, she grew restless and excited. Then one morning she came into the Cafe twice as important as she had gone out the night before, and I could see by her face that her little venture was panning out successfully. She waited till we had the Cafe to ourselves, which usually happened about mid-day, and then she took a letter out of her pocket and showed it me. It was a nice respectful letter containing sentiments that would have done honour to a churchwarden. Thanks to Marie's suggestions, for which he could never be sufficiently grateful, and which proved her to be as wise as she was good and beautiful, he had traced Mrs. Sleight, nee Mary Godselle, to Quebec. From Quebec, on the death of her uncle, she had left to take a situation as waitress in a New York hotel, and he was now on his way there to continue his search. The result he would, with Miss Marie's permission, write and inform her. If he obtained happiness he would owe it all to her. She it was who had shown him his duty; there was a good deal of it, but that's what it meant.