Marie shrugged disinterestedly. "There are all kinds of marriages." She yawned, added, "Where'd you pick her up? At a servants' costume ball?" "Not exactly," Justin told her. "Actually it's been a rather remarkable evening." "I bet it has!" Marie's tone was sharp. "Well, what are you going to do about it, Charles?" "I've already made reservations at the Ritz," he told her. "We'll both be out of here in a few minutes. By the way, could you loan Debby something to wear?" She regarded him with amusement. "Do you really think I should?" she countered. "Perhaps the maid has something. I'll go and see. The Ritz--hmmm. Well, gather ye rosebuds and all that, sweetheart. You know I'll have your hide for this, don't you?" "I never for a moment doubted it," he replied. She rose, looked as puzzled as had Ortine. Love, pure love between man and woman, was apparently as implausible to Marie as it was to the master of Belvoir. She said, "Charles, you know that's rather sweet. I'll see what I can do for your little friend. Better let me have a look at her though--just for size." Obeying an unexpected impulse, Justin kissed his wife on the forehead and told her, "You know, Marie, that's the nicest thing you've said since we've been married." "Don't crowd your luck, Charles," Marie warned. "Call out the concubine." Deborah emerged hesitantly, her brown hair an uncontrolled mess, Justin's robe flopping about her. She looked at Marie, then at Justin, said, "Is this Mistress Justin, Charles?" One of Marie's pale eyebrows shot up toward her hairline. She looked at Justin, shocked, then blinked groggily and managed to say, "I don't know who's whose mistress around here but I think I have an outfit that will fit her fairly well. And, Charles, I don't know what she's done to her hair but I'll bring along a snood." * * * * * Justin was late in reaching the office the following morning. Devereux Chandler was there ahead of him, practicing chip shots on the carpet with his cane. Steeled for the worst, Justin was surprised at the half-mocking grin with which Chandler greeted him. "I don't know what you did to my niece last night, Charles," he said, "but you've been the devil of a long time getting to it. She was on the phone this morning, demanding I have you fired." "I rather expected that, Dev," said Justin. "Drink?" "Not now," said Chandler. He sank into an armchair, looked at Justin quizzically. "I don't know what got into you, but then I don't know how you could stand Marie this long. She's used you for all you were worth." "That's not quite her story," said Justin, sitting on a corner of his desk. "She seems to think that without you and her connection with you I'd be counting change in a teller's cage out in Melrose." "Possibly--but we'd be the losers, Charles," Chandler told him. "I don't like to crowd your business hours but I thought it only proper to set your mind at rest."