"And Madame Monte--where is she? I noticed by the register there is such a person." "I--I think he said she had been called away--unexpectedly," Marjory gasped. She turned aside with an uncomfortable feeling that Beatrice had noticed her confusion. CHAPTER XIX AN EXPLANATION The following week Monte devoted himself wholly to the entertainment of Marjory and her friends. He placed his car at their disposal, and planned for them daily trips with the thoroughness of a courier, though he generally found some excuse for not going himself. His object was simple: to keep Marjory's days so filled that she would have no time left in which to worry. He wanted to help her, as far as possible, to forget the preceding week, which had so disturbed her. To this end nothing could be better for her than Peter and Beatrice Noyes, who were so simply and honestly plain, everyday Americans. They were just the wholesome, good-natured companions she needed to offset the morbid frame of mind into which he had driven her. Especially Peter. He was good for her and she was good for him. The more he talked with Peter Noyes the better he liked him. At the end of the day--after seeing them started in the morning, Monte used to go out and walk his legs off till dinner-time--he enjoyed dropping into a chair by the side of Peter. It was wonderful how already Peter had picked up. He had gained not only in weight and color, but a marked mental change was noticeable. He always came back from his ride in high spirits. So completely did he ignore his blindness that Monte, talking with him in the dark, found himself forgetting it--awakening to the fact each time with a shock when it was necessary to offer an assisting arm. It was the man's enthusiasm Monte admired. He seemed to be always alert--always keen. Yet, as near as he could find out, his life had been anything but adventuresome or varied. After leaving the law school he had settled down in a New York office and just plugged along. He confessed that this was the first vacation he had taken since he began practice. "You can hardly call this a vacation!" exclaimed Monte. "Man dear," answered Peter earnestly, "you don't know what these days mean to me." "You sure are entitled to all the fun you can get out of them," returned Monte. "But I hate to think how I'd feel under the same circumstances." "I don't believe there is much difference between men," answered Peter. "I imagine that about certain things we all feel a good deal alike." "I wonder," mused Monte. "I can't imagine myself, for instance, living twelve months in the year in New York and being enthusiastic about it." "What do you do when you're there?" inquired Peter. "Not much of anything," admitted Monte.