"Good gracious, if I _had_ called out, he would have heard me!" thought Marise; and was thankful that she hadn't. To yell for John Garth to rescue her from Tony Severance! That would have been too inane, too ridiculous. Nevertheless, a picture flashed vividly across her brain: Garth as he had looked that night at Mothereen's house when hearing her shriek he had bounded to her bedside from behind the screen. His collar had been off, his strong throat bare, his hair rumpled. It had occurred to Marise as she peeped from between her lashes that he'd make a fine model for a young Samson, newly sheared by Delilah. The man's quiet voice and his drawled "Good afternoon, Severance," frightened her a little. She had seen him angry, but never violent. She felt convinced, somehow, that the angrier he was, the more quiet he would be--deadly quiet. Just why she felt that, she couldn't have explained, for she did not know him well--indeed, she knew him hardly at all. Yet she _was_ sure--very sure. And she was sure also that his "good afternoon" didn't express Garth's real emotion at sight of Severance with her on the terrace of Vision House. "What had I better do?" she wondered. "Go--or stay?" She decided to stay, and keep peace between the two men if need be. Besides, she _must_ hear what they would say to each other! Severance had no conventional answer for Garth's "Good afternoon." He stood silent, staring and frowning, fingering his small black moustache. "To what do we owe the pleasure of this visit?" asked his host. Severance had never been able to forget the scene between himself and Garth at the latter's hotel in New York. He was at heart more Greek than British; and the days are long past since Greeks were aggressive fighters. He shrank from any repetition of his experience at the Belmore, and had come to Vision House meaning not to rouse Garth to violent issues. That cool question was too much, however, for his prudence. Anyhow, even Garth wouldn't be brute enough to attack him before Marise! "I have come to bring Miss Sorel a message from her mother, who wants her at Los Angeles," he said sharply. "That might do if she were Miss Sorel," returned Garth. "But she isn't." "She is professionally," said Severance. "She's ceased to be a professional." "Temporarily." "Oh! Your point is that she's the temporary wife of a temporary gentleman, and that as such her time with the T.G. is up. Is that it?" "Precisely." "I see. You've come to wind up the arrangement?" "I have. You must have been expecting me." "I didn't let my mind dwell on you. How are you going to pay me my million--in banknotes, bonds or a cheque? Because I may as well inform you, I shall refuse to accept a cheque." "I don't mean to offer you one." "Very well. Have you got the million on you?" "I have not! I haven't got it anywhere--that is, all of it. I shall pay you by instalments." "I can't agree to accept the money like that."