As election day drew near a United States cruiser made a visit of courtesy to the harbor of Managuay. The sailors were received with the wildest enthusiasm by the crowds. She remained until after the event. No armed force was landed; her mute presence in the harbor was sufficient. For the first time in years the Managuayans voted as they pleased. A truly popular and representative government was returned, which promptly got down to the work of correcting the abuses of the former régime. Curiously enough business was not ruined as had been so freely prognosticated. Dividends continued to be paid while the workers sang at their work. Capitalists discovered in Managuay as elsewhere that oppression did not even pay. Towards the end of the winter Señora de Socotra and Miss Wilmot returned to Santiago de Managuay. Amidst the misty verdure of the _Jardin des Plantes_ under the great moon of the tropics sauntered a happy pair pressed close together. "When did you start loving me, Greg?" "When you touched my arm outside the garage, and asked me if that was my car." "But I was in boy's clothes then." "My heart told me you were not a boy.... When did you start loving me?" "On the way home in the cab from Bessie's when we quarreled so violently. I cried all night." "Oho! Then the way to reach your heart is by quarreling with you!" "Oh, it wouldn't work now. I see through you too well!" "I love to have you see through me! How sweet it is to have you laugh at me and love me still!" "I like to have you love me, but I'm not sure that I like to be laughed at. Perhaps you can teach me to laugh at myself." "I don't want you any different. It's such fun to tease you, Red-head!" "I'll bleach my hair!" "You couldn't bleach your red-headed nature! ..." "What became of the old flivver, Greg?" "I brought it with me." "Brought it with you!" "Yes, and Hickey. I intended to surprise you. Hickey had a longing to travel. He is now driving Taxi No. 1 in Santiago, and learning Spanish mornings. When the old car will no longer run we'll build a little private museum for her in our back yard. When we get old we'll go look at it together and remind each other of the brisk days of our youth." "We'll never grow old inside anyway...." "Amy, dear, there's one thing that troubles my peace." "What is that?" "De Socotra's money." "It was all left to mamma." "But I suppose it will come to you in time. How could we take it?" "I have thought of that. We needn't take it if you will help me lie once more and for the last time." "How?" "I have been trying to persuade mamma to buy herself a sufficient annuity and then devote all the rest to philanthropic works. She objects that she must make provision for me. But if we allow her to think that you have sufficient----" "I see. I haven't a cent, you know, really, except the salary of a minor post in the diplomatic service. Aren't you afraid sometimes?"