"Will you go, dearest? Or shall I ring for Céline?" Mums asked. Marise answered by walking into the salon and picking up the receiver. Her heart was beating a little with the expectation of Garth's voice from--somewhere. Their own suite, perhaps? But a woman was speaking. "Is it you, Mrs. Sorel?" was the question that came. And the heart-beats were not calmed, for Marise recognised the contralto tones of Miss Marks, the villainess of her dream. "No, it's I, _Miss_ Sorel," she answered. "What's the matter? Aren't you coming as usual?" "I am sorry, no, I can't come," replied the voice across the wire. "I thought that now--you're married, _Mrs. Garth_, and going away before long, I should no longer be required. But in any case I----" "If we hadn't required your services we should have told you, and given you two weeks' salary in lieu of notice," snapped Marise professionally. "I hardly supposed you had time to think about me, everything was so confused yesterday," Zélie excused herself. "Anyhow, Mrs. Garth, I must give notice myself, for I've had news which will take me out of New York at once. I've got to start by the next train. It doesn't matter about money. I was paid up only a few days ago. We were just starting fresh----" "I'm sure my mother will wish to pay, and insist upon doing so," said Marise. "When does your train go?" "I'm not certain to the minute," hedged Miss Marks. "But I have to pack. I----" "That won't prevent your receiving an envelope with what we owe you in it," persisted Marise. "I suppose you're 'phoning from your flat?" "Yes--no. Yes. But I'll be gone before a messenger could get here. _Please_ don't trouble." "Very well, give me your address at the town where you're going," Marise said. "We can post you on a cheque." "I can't do that, I'm afraid," objected Miss Marks. "I shall be moving about from place to place for awhile. It's really no _use_, Mrs. Garth, thank you--though of course it's kind of you to care. Please say good-bye to Mrs. Sorel for me. You've both been very good." "I wish you'd sent us word last night," said Marise, whose eyes were bright, and whose hand, holding the receiver, had begun to throb as if she had a heart in her wrist. "I didn't know last night. The news I spoke of came this morning." "It must have come early!" "It did. Good-bye, Mrs. Garth." "Wait just a second. Are you going--West?" "Ye-es. For awhile." "You can't tell me where?" "Oh, several places. Not far from my old home." "Did you ever mention where that was?" But no answer came. Either they had been cut off, or Zélie Marks had impudently left the telephone. The dream came back to Marise--the dream where Garth and the stenographer had been whispering together in a room where Marise could not see them. "I believe he's with her now," the girl thought. "I believe when he went out this morning he went straight to _her_. He's told her to do something, and she intends to do it."