Now it was all right. It was all right and proper for her, all right and proper for him, all right and proper for society. Not only that, but it was so utterly normal that society would have frowned if she had not hurried to his side in such an emergency. It forced her here, willy-nilly. Perhaps that was the only reason she was here. Still, he did not like to think that. She was too true blue to quit a friend. It would be more like her to come anyway. He remembered how she had stood by that old aunt to the end. She would be standing by her to-day were she alive. Even Chic, who fulfilled his own obligations to the last word, had sometimes urged her to lead her own life, and she had only smiled. There was man stuff in her. It showed when she announced to these people her engagement. He did not believe she did that either because it was necessary or proper. She did it because it was the literal truth, and she was not ashamed of the literal truth in anything. "Is Mademoiselle Stockton sitting up--there in the next room?" "I do not know," answered the nurse. "Do you mind finding out for me?" "If monsieur will promise to sleep after that." "How can a man promise to sleep?" Even under normal conditions, that was a foolish thing to promise. But when a man was experiencing brand-new sensations--the sensations of being engaged--it was quite impossible to make such a promise. "Monsieur can at least promise not to talk." "I will do that," agreed Monte. She came back and reported that mademoiselle was sitting up, and begged to present her regards and express the hope that he was resting comfortably. "Please to tell her I am, and that I hope she will now go to bed," he answered. Nurse Duval did that, and returned. "What did she say?" inquired Monte. "But, monsieur--" She had no intention of spending the rest of the night as a messenger between those two rooms. "Very well," submitted Monte. "But you might tell me what she said." "She said she was not sleepy," answered the nurse. "I'm glad she's awake," said Monte. Just because he was awake. In a sense, it gave them this city for themselves. It was as if this immediately became their city. That was not good arithmetic. Assuming that the city contained a population of three millions,--he did not have his Baedeker at hand,--then clearly he could consider only one three millionth part of the city as his. With her awake in the next room, that made only two of them, so that taken collectively they had a right to claim only two three-millionths parts as belonging to them. Yet that was not the way it worked out. As far as he was concerned, the other two millions nine hundred and ninety-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-eight did not exist.