Monte was startled by the name, but was even more startled by the look of joy that illuminated the features of the man by his side. For a second it was as if his blind eyes had suddenly come to life. Monte caught his breath. CHAPTER XVII JUST MONTE Monte was at the Hôtel d'Angleterre at nine. In response to his card he received a brief note. _Dear Monte_ [he read]: Please don't ask to see me this morning. I'm so mixed up I'm afraid I won't be at all good company. Yours, MARJORY. Monte sent back this note in reply:-- _Dear Marjory_: If you're mixed up, I'm just the one you ought to see. You've been thinking again. MONTE. She came into the office looking like a hunted thing; but he stepped forward to meet her with a boyish good humor that reassured her in an instant. The firm grip of his hand alone was enough to steady her. Her tired eyes smiled gratitude. "I never expected to be married and deserted--all in one week," he said lightly. "What's the trouble?" He felt like a comedian trying to be funny with the heart gone out of him. But he knew she expected no less. He must remain just Monte or he would only frighten her the more. No matter if his heart pounded until he could not catch his breath, he must play the care-free chump of a _compagnon de voyage_. That was all she had married--all she wanted. She glanced at his arm in its black sling. "Who tied that this morning?" she asked. "The valet." "He did n't do it at all nicely. There's a little sun parlor on the next floor. Come with me and I 'll do it over." He followed her upstairs and into a room filled with flowers and wicker chairs. She stood before him and readjusted the handkerchief, so near that he thought he felt her breath. It was a test for a man, and he came through it nobly. "There--that's better," she said. "Now take the big chair in the sun." She drew it forward a little, though he protested at so much attention. She dropped into another seat a little away from him. "Well?" he inquired. "Aren't you going to tell me about it?" He was making it as easy as possible--easier than she had anticipated. "Won't you please smoke?" He lighted a cigarette. "Now we're off," he encouraged her. He was leaning back with one leg crossed over the other--a big, wholesome boy. His blue eyes this morning were the color of the sky, and just as clean and just as untroubled. As she studied him the thought uppermost in her mind was that she must not hurt him. She must be very careful about that. She must give him nothing to worry over. "Monte," she began, "I guess women have a lot of queer notions men don't know anything about. Can't we let it go at that?" "If you wish," he nodded. "Only--are you going to stay here?" "For a little while, anyway," she answered. "You mean--a day or two?" "Or a week or two." "You'd rather not tell me why?" "If you please--not," she answered quickly. He thought a moment, and then asked:--