She laughed softly to herself--and ran her fingers caressingly over the jewels. His wedding gift! The only one, of all the hundreds, that she cared for now--the only one that did not suggest to her the memories of the past--of her mistake in choosing--of her broken vows--her hideous experience. But his sapphires brought only the joy of living--the hope that some day, by some means, her freedom would be won and she would be permitted to yield herself and all she had to him. For she realized now--as she had long known, indeed--that he was the only man she cared for--the only man who cared for her and had cared through all the horrible past. She took one last look in the mirror--at the tall, slender figure in the clinging black gown; the lovely neck and arms and shoulders; the flawless face with its proud, cold beauty, that to-night was warm with tenderness; the glorious hair piled high on the aristocratic head like a gleaming crown of gold--and then went slowly down the stairway, as joyous as though she were to be married to Pendleton that very night. All through dinner--which she had alone, Mrs. Mourraille being absent--she thought of Montague. Not hopelessly as heretofore, but with a satisfied anticipation of present property. She did not attempt to analyze it--indeed, she was quite aware it did not admit of analysis; it was the intuitive knowledge that comes at rare intervals to women--never to men. Near the end of the meal, the desk 'phone in the living-room rang. The butler answered it. In a moment he returned. "Mr. Pendleton wants to know, madam, if you will be at home at a quarter to nine this evening?" he said. "Say to Mr. Pendleton that I shall be here and very glad to see him!" Stephanie replied. The man went to deliver the message. "Montague is impatient," she reflected, "though, as I never before knew him to be impatient, he must have a very good reason for coming a quarter of an hour earlier.... Yet why did he telephone at all--why didn't he just come?--Tompkins, was that all Mr. Pendleton said?" "Yes, madam!" Tompkins answered, "but, if you please, it wasn't Mr. Pendleton himself; leastwise, I didn't recognize his voice." She nodded in answer and finished her ice. "I'll have coffee on the piazza," she said, and arose. As she did so, the ship's clock in the hallway chimed one bell. "Half after eight!" she thought. "Fifteen minutes more until I see him. I'm as nervously anticipatory as a débutante about to receive her first proposal. What _is_ the matter with me! I'm actually becoming afraid to meet him--to meet an old friend--the best friend a woman ever had!" She laughed to herself, and sat down where, from the electric light at the corner, she could see his car draw up at the curb.