So intent were they on catching the car that neither noticed a well-dressed young woman watching them from a bench in Lafayette Square. Nurse Allen grew white to the lips and her pretty eyes glittered with a more powerful emotion than tears as she observed Barnard’s tender solicitude for Marjorie as he escorted her across the street. “Still playing the old game,” she muttered, tossing a handful of peanuts to three park squirrels, and gathering up her bag and muff she turned her footsteps toward Admiral Lawrence’s house. On their arrival at the Fordyce residence Barnard was ushered into the sunny library by the footman, while Marjorie hastily sought her room. Barnard found Janet and her brother waiting for him. “I hope I’m not late,” he said, selecting a seat near Janet, who resumed work on the necktie she was crocheting. “You are just on time,” remarked Duncan. “Mother is the tardy member of the household--and Miss Langdon.” “Marjorie is usually prompt,” Janet gave a tug at her spool of silk; the work-basket overturned, and its contents scattered in all directions. “Oh, don’t trouble,” as the two men stooped to gather up the different articles. “What’s this, Janet?” asked Duncan, picking up a heavy gold object which had rolled toward him. Barnard’s eyes dilated, and he shot a swift look at Janet. “A ring,” she replied. “A gold signet ring.” “So it seems.” Duncan examined it with care. “A man’s ring?” raising gravely questioning eyes to his sister’s. “And made to fit a girl’s finger.” Janet took it from him, and slipped it on, “but too large for me.” “Take it off,” commanded Barnard in her ear as the library door opened, but she shook her head violently and turned to the newcomer. “Look, Marjorie,” she called audaciously, displaying the ring on her finger. “Treasure trove.” Recognizing the familiar ring, Marjorie’s heart lost a beat, then raced onward, as she said clearly: “To have and to hold, Janet,” and Barnard’s eyes shifted before the scorn in hers. CHAPTER VIII THE ONLY WOMAN “ALMOST the amount,” mused Marjorie folding the letter and placing it carefully away in the top drawer of her bureau. “The company will have to take it and wait for the remainder. I can do no more,” and she turned dejectedly in her chair and surveyed her room, the dainty furnishings of which left nothing to be desired in point of taste and comfort. Mrs. Fordyce had given Marjorie the large double room on the second bedroom floor, and adjoining Janet’s, the two girls using the communicating dressing-room.