Intrigued, Marise became impatient to go to her room, but could not escape there till it was time to dress. Céline was already on the spot, preparing her mistress's dress for the evening: bridal white frock, scintillating with crystal; little slippers, silk stockings, a petticoat of rose-embroidered chiffon and lace. But Marise did not cast a glance at these things. She walked straight to the dressing-table, and couldn't help giving a little squeak. For there lay the missing jewel-cases--those she had thrown into the corridor at the Plaza Hotel on her wedding night--and had never seen since. CHAPTER XXIX THE WHITE DOVE Marise and Garth neatly arranged their life according to stateroom etiquette on shipboard. When one was in the bedroom the other was in the sitting-room next door. They were like the figures of the man and woman who come out and go in at the adjacent doors of a barometer; and the plan, though inconvenient, was not unworkable. When the girl had opened the jewel-cases and gazed once more at the glories she had thought lost forever to her repentant eyes, she couldn't resist tapping on the wall with a gold-backed hair-brush--one Garth had given her. Indeed, she did not stop to think better of the impulse. Her heart--or some distantly related muscles round the organ--had suddenly warmed towards the man. This thaw was doubtless produced by remorse. For she had believed, on no evidence save instinct, that he had given these lovely things--_her_ wedding presents, although discarded!--to Zélie Marks. Instead, he must have expressed them to Mrs. Mooney in order that she--Marise--should have a chance to change her mind. Foxy of him, because it would be difficult to refuse the gifts again, coming as they did from the innocent hands of Mothereen! However, she would see. She'd have a talk with Garth, and then decide. Garth was in the sitting-room, pretending to himself that he was interested in the evening paper. He jumped up at the sound of a tap on the wall, hardly believing his own ears. But a knock at Marise's door brought a "Come in!" which did not sound grudging. Marise in a so-called _robe de chambre_ was more dressed than in "Dolores's" third act ball-gown at the theatre, yet there was such a bizarre touch of intimacy in being admitted to this bedroom scene on the stage of life that numerous volts of electricity seemed to shoot through Garth's nerves. His face was composed, however, even stolid. "You wanted me?" he asked. Marise didn't directly answer that question. She pointed to the jewel-cases. "Mrs.--Mooney put these here," she said. "I--wanted to tell you I'm glad they weren't stolen or--anything."